


Explaining is an Admission of Failure

by Writerforthem



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Basically, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Leviathans, M/M, Wincest if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-02-07 05:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21452974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writerforthem/pseuds/Writerforthem
Summary: When the Leviathans win... what then?When the only people who could have helped take them down disappear... is there anything left that can be done?Sam and Dean Winchester haven't been heard of since the Leviathan takeover, but two men who walk into a camp one day draw curious eyes.Or,Heroes don't always wear capes.  Sometimes they're wrapped in plaid.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first ever long Supernatural fic. Something I started writing just from the thought about how the Winchester brothers are legends to the hunting community. How in the episode 'Dark side of the moon' they didn't let Dean live because his reputation was so well known. How dangerous he was, especially when it came to Sam. And I thought... what if other people knew about them? And then from later episodes, I've thought about what would happen if the leviathans took over.
> 
> From those thoughts, came my post Leviathan Apocalypse world.

It turns out Dean was right. The world wanted to end. It didn't take long after the leviathans got the upper hand for everything to start going down the drain. And it went fast. Like a flood overtaking the desert when it finally decides to rain, it washed everything with it. A lot didn't fare well. Even more didn't survive. The country turned into what could almost be called a post-apocalyptic world. Though the apocalypse was what had actually been averted.

It didn't always look like a dead world. Some cities looked better than others in the beginning. Some weren't burned down. Some actually had electricity. Some people actually pretended that life went on as normal. But it didn't. The government is gone. Infiltrated and dismembered. People were eaten whenever the mood struck the monsters now at the top of the food chain. It was just a new common fact.

If you looked closer though, you'd see the change. You'd see the scars left cut in the rock by the flood. You'd see the way people hid. See the way cities were slowly falling apart against their will. Even the better looking ones were getting dark. Random house fires. Camps instead of communities. Every city slowly turning into a war zone. The wall was rising. People wanted out. Eventually the transition was complete. It was only a step away from the destruction Dean saw in a possible future thanks to Zachariah way back when.

Those strong enough started to fight. Those too weak tried to flee. Most were eaten. It was then that Hunters were acknowledged though very few were actually known. Most stayed in the dark out of protection for themselves. Only a few names were whispered around the fires in camps or in dark homes. The names said the most were whispered in almost awe. Singer. Winchester. And even sometimes stories of the old Roadhouse were passed around.

Now that the unbelievable was believed, the stories of how the world was saved once before were coming to light. Credit was given to those who stopped the devil. Heroes were named. No one talked much of the angel who helped, unable to say the name without fighting about if he was good or evil in the end. It was just there. The story of Castiel stopped soon after the talk of the return of the younger brother from the cage. They let the angel fade into the new story about the destruction of their world. Some hoped he'd return to help.

Singer and the Winchesters haven't been seen for months. Not after the leviathans got the upper hand and cities were burned and eaten. Some think they're dead. Others have taken their names on as a hope for the future. The stories told by those who have been saved in the past are circulated regularly. Most argue that they've survived too much to have just disappeared without a word of defiance. They wait for the end to come in the form of the Winchesters stepping up. It's all the hope they have left now.

No one knows what happened the day the leviathans revealed themselves. All they know is what was seen. Fires. Attacks. And words spoken by the leader about the continent of North America being theirs now. The name Winchester was said. None can recall how it was used. But they know that day was the effect of them trying to stop the creatures. And failed. No one knows how or why. But with the legends of their other hunts floating through the camps, they all know that if the world is to be saved, it will be by them in the end. Just like always.

Besides. Losing the first battle means knowledge for the second. The next time the Winchesters show up, they'll be ready for the kill.


	2. Chapter 2

The newcomers walking into the camp aren't spared a second look, even though their height make them almost tower over most of the rest. Most people who look the first time are too afraid to look again in case they make eye contact. The men go straight to the only bar there is in the camp. They don't even care to look around them. They look dangerous enough not to care. It's easy to see the two are soldiers fighting against the leviathans. It's hard to scare those types of people.

These two men though, they look different from the rest. Even more dangerous than other soldiers. Even more seasoned. But none look close enough, too busy trying to avoid the feeling of unease they get when looking at them. If they did look, they'd see the chinks in their armor that are still being fixed. The very slightest of limps in the shorter one's step, the taller one keeping a finger caught in a dip of the shorter one's jacket sleeve, and the way neither of them are even the slightest bit relaxed though they look it. Little signs of the less than strong interior covered by their rough exterior.

Walking into the bar, the taller one twitches slightly at the sound of glasses being dropped on the table. The shorter one leans just slightly closer to him for a split second, making the taller relax. The exchange is almost unnoticeable. They walk over to a corner table where a slightly older man is already sitting. No one pays them any attention. People passing through is no oddity here.

"How've you guys been doin'?"

"As good as we ever are these days."

He looks to the other man. "How you doin' Sam?" He eyes the way Sam's face is like stone. The face of someone unpredictable. He'd be nervous if Dean weren't here too.

Hazel eyes dart up, the slight edge of a smile showing through a hard face. "Better." His voice is gritty.

"And he's not lying Mark."

Mark chuckles. "I can see he's doing better. I'm surprised actually."

Sam shrugs. "Dean helps." Definitely not used to talking much, Mark decides. How weird. He distinctly remembers Dean talking a lot. How would Sam get away without talking?

He nods in reply to Sam's answer. That's all the explanation he expected. The brothers don't get really personal with anyone anymore. They keep to themselves these days.

Dean looks over at Sam, but addresses Mark. "Every day is a question. Each one turns out to have an answer."

Sam snorts almost humorlessly. Almost.

Mark quirks a half grin. These two brothers and their inside sayings... "So. You guys about ready to hear what's been goin' on the past few months?"

Dean nods, leaning back in the booth. His left leg falls over to bump Sam's knee with his. "No one's falling apart anymore," he says with a grin, hand absently running over said left knee in an unconscious reaction.

Mark chuckles. "That's good. Because it's about time we end the reign of the leviathans don't you think?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Don't ever need to ask that question, Mark."

He nods. "Fair enough." He leans forward, hands entwining on the table top. "It's time to head east. It's where most of the attacks are happening. We think they're going to start a westward motion within the next month or so. Reports from recon are coming in that they're planning on rounding up people. Doing a number on them almost like that turducken thing you told us about in the beginning. Subduing them and taking them in. Not eating them all. Keeping them."

Dean frowns. "Storing them."

"And possibly…"

Sam wrinkles his nose. "Reproduction."

Mark nods. "Farming."

Dean snorts. "That doesn't make it sound any better."

Mark shrugs wryly.

"And there's still no help from other countries?"

Mark sighs. "They're all readying themselves for the attack on their own land. They know it's coming soon. They're trying to come up with ways to kill them. So far, nothing. But we have guys keeping track. If they figure out something, we'll know. But they don't want to get involved until they have a surefire way to get rid of them."

"No attracting attention to more easy prey," Sam murmurs.

"Bingo." Mark looks from Sam to Dean. "You guys ready to get back in the game? We've needed a little extra help."

Dean looks over and slightly up at Sam. "Whaddya say Sammy? Ready to get back to what we do best?"

Sam raises an eyebrow, but quirks an almost-smile. "I don't know, Dean. Do we still do it the best?"

Dean glares. "Why do I ever bring you anywhere?"

Sam doesn't answer, only lets out a smile though soft and small before it disappears and he looks back to Mark.

Dean looks back to him too. "We're in."

Mark nods, motioning for the bar tender. "Alright. Welcome to squad seven. Drinks on me, then we're headed to camp."

A few drinks later (only one for Sam) and the three are walking out of the camp going the opposite way the two came in. No one pays attention to the three men. Some just look at the two closer together, wondering what about them sparks something in their memory.

They walk for hours, not stopping until Mark leads them into a tiny settlement, waving to the few guards patrolling the grounds. It's obvious he uses this base as a go-between often. They know him here. He leads them straight to an empty house at the very edge of the settlement just as the sun is starting to sink below the tree line. "We'll probably make it tomorrow around seven. We're about half way there. We'll just bunk down for the night. Sunrise work for you?"

Dean nods. "That's fine." 

"You guys can use the room down the hall."

Dean heads towards the room farthest down the hall of the dark house. Sam follows, Dean's shadow tied to him like a string. When they get inside the room and Dean closes the door, a weight lifts off Sam's shoulders, letting him breathe easier and giving him the ability to relax. Dean motions towards the bed. "Sit. Shirt off."

Sam sighs.

"We need to check it. Do you want to have nightmares?"

"It's been working, Dean. It's fine."

"I just need to make sure."

Sam doesn't argue. He knows it'll make Dean rest easier just to look. He pulls his shirt over his head as Dean pulls one of their battery powered lamps out of his bag. He closes his eyes and relaxes, feeling Dean sit behind him and seeing the faint glow of light through his eye lids. "It's fine, isn't it?" he asks as he feels Deans hands move his back around to look at the lines of the wide symbol on it in the light.

"Don't be a smart ass. Bitch."

He smiles.

"It's fading though."

His smile disappears, eyes opening. "What do we do then?"

Dean sighs. "I hate to say it, but we do it again. Until we find a tattoo parlor with clean needles and good ink left."

Sam grimaces. The first time was bad enough. "So the scar is fading?"

"Around some edges."

"Great." He pulls his shirt back on.

"We have painkillers this time."

Sam shakes his head, turning to lay on his back. Swinging his legs over his brother's head to lay flat, they barely miss swiping him. He grins at Dean's glare. Then looks serious. "No need to waste them. I made it through the first time."

Dean frowns. "Sam…"

"I'll be fine again."

Dean cringes at the thought of hurting Sam again. Even if it is to keep the nightmares and memories away. It takes a long time. "Too bad we couldn't find a permanent spell." He stands, throwing his jacket on the back of a chair and pulling a gun and knife out of his bag before making his way over to the bed. He slides them under the pillow after sitting down.

"I'm glad you found something at all, Dean."

Dean shrugs, turning to fall backwards, laying almost exactly like Sam. He moves his arms up to rest his head on his hands. "You sure you're ready for this?"

Sam snorts. "No. But if we wait until then, everyone will be dead."

Dean doesn't comment. The room is silent for a long time.

"Your knee okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You ask me, I ask you. Only fair."

Dean rolls his eyes, rolling over to his side. "Just keep to your side of the bed, sasquatch." He closes his eyes as Sam chuckles, but listens until Sam's breaths even out before letting himself drift off too.

Sam makes it without nightmares to Dean's relief. But as usual, an arm is thrown over his chest when he wakes up and it's way too hot to stay in bed any longer. It's routine now. Sam's arm or leg spread out enough to flop on him. Better than pushing him off he supposes. He just lifts it up, dropping it as he gets up and puts his weapons back in his bag. Sam doesn't even stir.

He throws his jacket at Sam's head. "Sam. Time to go. Sun will be up in a few minutes. Then we're outta here."

Sam groans, not even looking as his arm throws the jacket back in the direction it came from before flopping back down.

Dean catches the jacket without looking. He doesn't even bother turning around. He knows the routine by now.

Sam slowly pushes himself up, running a hand through his hair to push it back out of his way. "Your internal clock never ceases to amaze me."

Dean grins. "Big brother skill. C'mon Sammy. Get up."

"I'm up."

Dean grins to himself. Their roles have been reversed over the years. It used to be Sam who was the morning person, waking Dean up who grumped about early wake up calls. Now though, Sam's body has accustomed itself to get as much sleep as possible before a nightmare takes a night away. Which hopefully won't be happening anymore.

"I want coffee."

"Don't have coffee."

"I know." Sam shuffles over to where he left his jacket the night before, then goes to stand by Dean at the door of the bedroom. He sighs once before finally opening his eyes and running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face for the last time. "I'm ready."

Dean pats his chest twice before turning around. "Today is a new question."

"I'm going to find the answer," Sam mumbles back. "With yer help," he tacks on.

Dean chuckles.

He follows Dean's slight shadow down the hallway with his head drooped and hands in his pockets. Mornings are the worst. He's still trying to get back to himself. Feel as strong as he used to. As self-assured. It hasn't been easy getting to this point. But Dean helps. He keeps him close at all times. In fact, it's technically Dean that protects him from nightmares. They both lean against the railing of the porch when they get outside.

"You sure you're awake?"

Sam looks up from under his bangs to see Dean's slightly amused face. "Working on it." He yawns, looking around to where the horizon is lighter. His shoulder leans into Dean's. His brow furrows. "Where'd we leave the impala?"

Dean frowns for a second before letting it go. He knows Sam forgets things sometimes. His mind has been fragile since the break. Forgetting random things isn't that bad. "Dad's lockup remember? It took us hours to make room for it," he answers, handing Sam their last bag of chips from his duffel.

Sam suddenly grins at the memory. "A shelf almost fell on you."

"Because you pushed it," he grunts. "Freakin' giant."

Sam laughs, honest to God laughs, for the first time in about a week. He almost chokes on a chip in the process.

Dean smiles. As he opens his own bag. It's the best sound he's heard in a long time. "Quiet Sammy, you'll wake the neighbors."

Sam snorts another soft laugh. "Yeah. The ones a mile away?"

"Your laugh? Yes."

Sam shoves him with his shoulder, grin still in place.

Dean takes that as a sign that it will be a good day. "Where'd that question come from anyway?"

Sam shrugs, smile dimming but turning more fond. "Miss it I guess."

Dean nods. Instead of standing here, shoulder to shoulder, they'd be leaning against the Impala. Doing just that. "Me too."

"You ever gonna get it back?"

Dean shrugs. "Someday. Kinda wanna check on her though. Hope she's still locked up." He huffs once. "Hate the thought of someone getting in there."

Sam nods.

They stand in silence for a few seconds and finish their chips before footsteps approach from behind. Sam tenses, but relaxes again when Dean touches his arm. "Mark. Remember?"

He nods. Let's out a breath. "Yeah." He squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds before huffing out a deep breath. "Sorry."

Dean pats his arm before turning. "No need to be sorry." He turns to grin at Mark as he gets closer. "Morning."

Mark nods. "Morning. Sleep well?"

Dean nods. "Perfect."

Only Sam notices the slight relief in his voice. He feels slight satisfaction that he was the one that caused that. Not waking him with nightmares like he feared.

"We'll need to travel carefully today. We go right between two leviathan posts about four hours from here. As long as we're quiet and careful we'll get through just fine. The camp is about five hours away from that."

"Awfully close don't you think?" Dean comments.

Mark grins suddenly. "Oh our camp isn't just a camp."

Dean nods. "That's right. That's why you asked me to come."

Mark nods. "We're The Compound. All soldiers stop there before they go out to separate camps. We're the base of operations. And we're waiting for you two."

Sam snorts, suddenly looking quite irritated.

Dean looks to him, tilting his head slightly.

Sam scowls. "I'm not going to be much help."

"Sam…"

"You kidding?" Mark cuts in. "Sam Winchester? The guy who saved the world?"

Sam looks at him, wide eyed.

Dean looks at him too, thrilled with how his brother is known to the hunting community. "It's about time he got some damn credit for what he did."

Mark grins at Sam's look. "You ever sit in the middle of a camp when the moon is bright and listen to people tell stories around their bonfire?"

Sam shakes his head, still dumbstruck.

Mark puts a hand on Sam's shoulder, ignoring the slight flinch when he sees Dean lightly touch the other arm and sees Sam relax again. "Winchester is the name whispered around the camp fires. Sam and Dean are the names known to hunters only. You and your brother are legends now. Mostly thanks to bored hunters and people you've saved. And a hunter who got the whole story from Bobby Singer when he bragged about you two."

At the mention of Bobby, both brothers get the same look on their face. A loving, yet sorrowful look.

Mark gently takes his hand from Sam's shoulder so as not to spook him again. He doesn't fully understand the extent of damage, but he knows Sam's a little more fragile mentally than he used to be. Especially with the way Dean watches over him. "You guys have been through more than anyone just from the crap you were caught up in. And now you're right in the middle of this too though you think you're out of the fight. Legends don't give up, do they?"

Sam looks to Dean, eyes wide and frantic with everything Mark just told them.

Dean looks up at him, gives him his signature smirk, and winks at him. "Yeah, Sammy. Do legends give up?"

Sam's face calms at the familiar display of cockiness. He draws strength from Dean's faith in him. Always has. "I guess not," he finally murmurs, looking back to Mark.

Mark grins. "I can see you're not exactly the Sam Winchester you used to be," he allows. "Though I never truly knew who that was. But what I see now, is someone who is still dangerous. He just needs to remember it."

Sam's face turns serious, jaw clenching as he nods once.

Mark looks to Dean to see a striking look of thanks on his face. It's obvious he knew Sam needed to hear the same thing he says from someone else. He pats Dean's arm as he goes around him in a silent 'you're welcome'. He likes these boys. Bobby was right about them. "C'mon boys. Daylight's awaistin'."


	3. Chapter 3

**Five Months Ago. North Carolina.**

"Sammy. Don't do this to me now. I thought you were alright. I thought you were doing okay. Don't do this to me. Wake up. Sam!" Sam doesn't answer. So Dean does the only thing he can think of doing. He grabs his brother, hoisting him up to hold his arm over his shoulders and starts dragging him. "Geeze Sasquatch. It would really help if you were awake right now."

Buildings all around them are burning. Smoke is creating a fog through the streets. Dean pulls his brother with him down the sidewalk, stumbling under the weight more than once. No one else is here. Everyone who could get away did so hours ago. He and Sam with three others were the only ones stupid enough to try to stop them. The leviathans. He and Sam are the only ones left that he knows of.

They were right there. Right at the front door of the building where Dick was. But there were also other leviathans which had discovered something that was new and fun to them. Blowing things up. Before Sam or Dean could react, fire was everywhere. They were destroying the already empty city, planning to make it their base of operations. The group of hunters were too late to stop them. They never had a chance.

"It would be awesome if you could wake up now, Sam," Dean grunts. The smoke is getting thinner. He's making it farther away from the worst of it. But there's no telling if anyone is after them.

It wasn't the first explosion that got them. They were able to get away from that one mostly unscathed. It was farther down the street where they were attacked. Thrown around by a creature or two until the canisters near them were set alight like the ones before. The explosion blew them off their feet, sending Sam into the side of a building. His head had collided with the brick wall, making Dean cringe as he scrambled over to Sam's side, looking around them for any more leviathans as he started to shake his brother. Sam hadn't responded and here they are now. Sam down for the count and Dean struggling to get them both to safety.

"There you are."

Dean stops when the figure shows up in front of him. "Damnit." His hands tighten on Sam. Could he make a run for it?

"I wouldn't recommend that," the leviathan says as if reading his thoughts. "You won't get very far."

Dean stays still. Maybe. Just maybe he can do something else. Not enough to kill it, but enough to buy them some time. He shifts his hold on Sam. Right hand tightly around the wrist of Sam's arm he's holding over his shoulder, left arm around his waist. He takes a steadying breath. "Well? Aren't you going to finish us off?"

The leviathan steps forward. "I've always preferred my meat cooked."

Dean grimaces inwardly, preparing for his attack. When the leviathan gets within five feet of him, he lets Sam drop, hand going to the blade strapped to his waist. He can barely get his hand wrapped around it before a bone-jarring punch lands his jaw, sending him backwards. He hits the ground hard, rolling back up to his feet even as he tries to get his bearings. He brings a hand up to his jaw, grimacing but happy it's not broken.

The leviathan walks up to him. "You're going to have to try harder than that."

When Dean goes for him again, it doesn't go much more smoothly. His first swing is dodged, the second coming around right after to aim for the lowered neck. It doesn't make it. Instead, the leviathan again swings at him. This time, he throws his whole body into it. Dean is thrown again. Hard. One hit to God knows what, laying in the road and his leg snaps.

Dean cries out, lying on his back as he waits for the pain to leave. It's the same leg as before, most likely in the same spot accounting for the ease in which it snapped. Which totally isn't going be good later when it tries to heal. He groans, hand still tight around the handle of the blade in his hand though he's fighting off a wave of dizziness. He stays down, waiting for the leviathan to get closer. Listening to his steps until he's standing right next to him.

As the leviathan leans down, reaching to fist a hand in Dean's jacket, Dean goes for it. One strong swing at the creatures neck, a burst of energy that surprises him, and the head falls to the ground. Then he's scrambling to get Sam back up again, the pain in his leg a dull throb in the background. This time he hears Sam groan. "Sammy? Sam!" He hauls Sam up again. "You with me?"

"Ungh."

It isn't reassuring, but it's enough. "C'mon Sam. Help me out here. We have to go. We've gotta get outta here Sammy." He starts walking, sneering in disgust as he sees the head already trying to reattach to the body. He moves faster. He gets around the corner of a building before ducking through another one. He pauses inside, shrugging his shoulder next to Sam. "You with me?"

Sam lets out a single breath. "Dean."

"Right here bro."

"It hurts, Dean."

He hates the way his brother sounds like he's eight again, falling off his bike for the first time. "What hurts?"

"The fire burns. Make it stop. Make it stop, Dean. It burns."

"Easy Sammy. We're away from the fire. There's no fire here." He starts moving towards the door opposite the one he came in through. It's time to get Sam out of here. He's about to have a break down. He knows Sam isn't talking about the fire around them, but the fire in his memories.

Sam whimpers. Honest to God whimpers. "Don't let them hurt me, Dean."

"I won't. I'm right here Sammy." He gets out the door, heading away from all of the fire behind them. Struggling under his brother's weight to get away from the creatures that want them dead. It feels like his leg is on fire. Might as well be. "They won't hurt you Sam. We got you out. I'm right here."

"Are you real?"

Dean grits his teeth, eyes squeezing shut for a second. Of course they tortured Sam with Dean. Of course they used the one person they knew could break Sam to torture him. Made him think Dean was there. What else did they make him think? "Of course I'm real. Remember? Your hand, Sam. The scar. This is real. It's different. Yeah?"

Sam's feet are almost supporting him without conscious thought. They're getting farther away. "I remember," he murmurs, head lolling onto Dean's shoulder.

"Stay with me, Sam. Just a little longer." They've made it out of the destruction now. Walking down a street with fire behind them, small signs of destruction still lingering on either side. "We need to get out of here." He looks around, trying to figure out where the impala could be. "Where'd we park the impala Sam? Huh?" He nudges his shoulder up to make Sam's head lift. "Which way? You remember?" He hopes to distract him from his confusion.

Sam looks around, eyes open, but unfocused. Then his hand attaches to the wrist of Dean's hand that's still holding his arm over his shoulder. "Keep going. To the left ahead. Not far." He groans, eyes falling closed as he starts to fall forward.

Dean struggles to balance him before starting forward again. "Easy, easy. I'm right here. You're alright." It's a long walk to the impala. When he gets there, he gets the back door open with trouble, gently maneuvering Sam into the backseat. He pulls off his jacket, laying it over Sam. "Relax bro. I've got ya."

He gets into the driver's seat, letting out a small cry when the pain in his leg reminds him of its presence. The burning feeling quickly spreads. His head spins and for one frightening moment, he thinks he's going to pass out. He controls it though, breathing through it and only emptying what little was in his stomach. He scrambles to get in the car and has to calm down before he can get the shaking key into the ignition and get the car started. He drives with his left foot, which really sucks, but they get away. That's all that matters right now.

Sam doesn't wake up for days. Dean has to drag him into the house he chooses for them to stay in. He has to set his own leg which led to much throwing up, crying out, and eventually passing out. When he woke up he had to go through wrapping it and finding something to make crutches out of. He's proud of them at least.

By day three that Sam's out, Dean starts to get worried. He moves him around to keep him from getting bed sores and whatever else hospitals have told him about at one point or another. Nutrition and fluids becomes an increasingly worrying problem though. If Sam doesn't eat, he's going to die before he gets a chance to ever wake up. But with hospitals closed down where they've settled, Sam's chances aren't looking good. He barely manages to get some water down his throat.

At the end of day three, Dean is contemplating getting to another city and hoping for an open or working hospital but doesn't want to chance leaving the safety of their seclusion. Sam wakes up at 10:04 that night. Dean will always remember that time. It was the time he breathed again for the first time since the day it happened. It's also when he realized he'd get at least another day of not being alone. Of having Sam with him.

His relief is short lived when all Sam does is lay on the bed and stare at nothing. Or sit and stare at nothing at the table in the kitchen. Or do nothing as Dean feeds him little by little. He doesn't talk. He doesn't eat unless Dean feeds him. He starts to wonder if Sam will get better at all. It's dinner on the third day he's awake when he finally looks at Dean like he knows who he is.

Dean blinks when he makes eye contact with his brother for the first time in almost a week. "Sam?" When his brother doesn't look away and he sees actual recognition in his eyes, he smiles a little in relief. "Hey. You in there? You with me, Sammy?" Sam doesn't answer. But he blinks before looking away. That's all Dean holds on to for that first horrible week. Sam knows him. Sam will climb out of wherever he is in his head for him.

That's exactly what Sam does. He makes an effort to respond just a tiny bit when Dean talks to him. He goes out of his way to get Dean's attention even if it's for the most pointless thing. He reassures Dean. He doesn't talk, but they still communicate as they've always done just by knowing each other's faces. A touch. He improves more rapidly every day. Except for the nightmares. The nightmares kill them both every night.

Dean has to sleep in the same bed as Sam. Keeps him from thrashing around and hurting himself. Pulls him out of it after what seems like hours of talking to him. Trying to pull him out of whatever horrible thing his mind has sucked him into. It took some time for him to work himself out of his walls labeled 'no chick-flicks allowed'. But Sam needs more than his old self could give. He starts trying to reach out more. It's not easy.

He does little things for Sam. One day he finds books in one of the rooms of the house and shows them to him. Hopes to get him to actually do something besides sit around silently. It's starting to creep him out. He feels like he just won the lottery when he sees the familiar spark of interest light up in Sam's eyes when he shows them to him. He feels like an idiot grinning to himself for the rest of the day. Even if Sam doesn't actually pick them up.

He starts to cook too. There are a lot of foods in a freezer in the basement. Not to mention still good food in the fridge since people didn't start running from their homes to get away from the leviathans until a couple weeks ago. He prides himself in the fact that Sam starts looking interested in what dinner is going to be every night.

"Housewife."

Dean startles, turning to look at his brother and proceeds to be even more shocked when said brother actually bounces up onto the counter to sit. "Uh… what?"

The corner of Sam's mouth quirks up a little as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. This leaves him leaning over to watch Dean cook. "You're a housewife." His voice is gritty from not being used, but it's never sounded better to Dean.

Dean barely gets out a glare instead of the smile he can feel fighting to spread across his face. Sam talked to him. And he's joking. "You're the girl in this relationship, Sammy. Always have been."

"Jerk."


	4. Chapter 4

**Present**

They're almost out of the danger zone when the leviathans show up. So close. So close to being home free. And it's pure bad luck too. Nothing they did at all. Just some leviathans taking a perimeter scope. The two groups just happen to walk right into each other. No warning for either of them.  


"You doin' okay, Sam?"

"Peachy." Reloaded, he turns to look over the rubble they're hiding behind. Clear so far.

"Just asking."

He pats his brother's chest when he turns back around to collapse against the makeshift wall behind them. "You'll know when I'm not."

"I'd rather know beforehand."

"Tough."

"I was afraid you'd say that."

"You notice the canister you tipped over?" Sam looks to Dean meaningfully.

"Yeah. Smelled it. You working on something?"

Sam nods. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Where's Mark?"

"About two o'clock? Ducking."

"On three."

"One."

"Two."

The 'three' is in unison. Both jump out and make a run for it, guns blazing. They may not kill leviathans, but it sure does slow them down if they're short a kneecap or two.

Mark jumps in with them to make it around the corner. The last thing they see before they duck down again is the wide mouth and teeth that haunt the nightmares of most everyone who lives in this war. Once around the corner, they sneak into a building and go out the back. A little weaving through other buildings and through the abandoned streets before they stop inside another building gives them a few extra minutes. Hopefully.

"What do you mean hopefully?"

Sam glares at Dean. "I'm not a computer, Dean." He turns and starts pacing.

Dean sighs. "Sorry." He watches Sam pace.

"What's he doing? We need to get out of here."

Dean puts his arm out to silence Mark. "Give him a minute. He's doing his thing."

Mark looks to him. "What thing?"

Dean grins, waving his hand in a 'shooing' motion. "His planning… thing."

"Okay. Maybe four of them? It looks like it was just a routine check of perimeters. They were thrown off. No backup can come in time. We don't have any either. But we have someone who knows the place." He finally freezes, looking to Mark. "What's the most confusing way out of here?"

It takes him a second to answer, thrown off by Sam's sharp gaze on him and the way he seems so together right now. Winchester back in his element, no doubt. "Out the back door here and through a few cross sections to make it to the highway. It has a lot of intersections and ramps."

Sam nods. "You know how to zigzag while making good distance?"

Mark nods. "Absolutely."

Sam looks to Dean. "So you smelled what you spilled, right?" He grins widely.

Dean grins back. "Got it."

Mark blinks. "Got what?"

"Just follow Sam." Dean smirks, slinging his bag off his shoulder.

Sam grabs Mark, tossing something to Dean before dragging the older man out the door and pushing him forward. "Lead us out. Confusing but putting distance."

"What about Dean?"

Sam snorts. "You'll see."

Still confused but willing to listen, Mark keeps running, leading Sam farther and farther away from danger. He hopes. They're just getting to the highway when there's an explosion. Sliding to a stop, Mark spins around and ducks behind a building to watch the building they were in not too long ago fly to pieces. It sets off a chain reaction down the street. "What's so explosive around here?"

Sam grins next to him, eyes almost feral as he watches the fire spread. It gives him a whole new level of creepy. There's also pride in the look. Of Dean maybe? "The leviathans are using this area as a supply store in case they can't make it all the way back to their base. Canisters were set in alleyways to not draw attention. Dean knocked over one when running away from them."

"What is it?"

"Fuel. We've had some… experience with them using it to get through defenses. If an attack was set here, they'd have some sort of ammunition back at us. But since it was just us three, I think they were hoping to get us easily." He shoos Mark forward, starting them off again. "We have to keep moving. Dean's following." It sounds like he's trying to convince himself too. It's also the most Mark has ever heard him talk, and notices how Sam's voice really does sound wrecked. Like someone who's so world-weary they don't even talk anymore. He wouldn't be surprised. It seems Dean does most of the talking for them anyway.

Mark leads him again, noticing the farther they get, the more twitchy Sam gets. It's when they've ducked under a few ramps and crossed a big cut in the road that Sam allows them to stop. Then he looks back the way they came. After taking a few breaths to catch what he lost from running, he spares a look at Mark.

"We'll wait here." Then he paces.

It makes Mark uneasy. The longer time drags on, the more antsy Sam gets. The tension around his mouth gets harder, the tightness around his eyes gets worse, he runs his hand through his hair every once in a while. But Mark doesn't bother him. It's not his place. He wouldn't know what to do anyway. He does realize the effort it probably took to wait this long to freak out. It's obvious Sam knows when to buckle down. Now that they're out of the line of fire though, the obvious discomfort of being apart from Dean is showing. Badly.

Sam paces. He tries to stay calm. Tries to keep his jitters to a minimum. If he were alone, he'd be muttering to himself. Telling himself how pathetic this is. Tearing himself apart at how dependent he is on Dean. It's what he's done whenever Dean went out to get supplies on his own when Sam was recovering. Testing his limits. Sam never let on how much it got to him.

It seems like hours, though it's probably only minutes before Sam freezes and turns to his left, grabbing Mark's attention who watches the rest in awe. Sam's eyes close, and every line of tension suddenly drains from his body as he releases a breath neither he nor Mark probably knew he was holding. Then he waits, unmoving in his vigil.

Mark waits, confused. What does Sam know that he doesn't? The silence is eventually broken by the scuff of boots kicking up dust and gravel, and Mark realizes that somehow Sam knew Dean was coming. Then Dean comes around the side of a collapsed highway bridge, bag slung over his shoulder and sauntering over with a grin like he just won the whole world. His eyes are on Sam.

"Damn, Sammy. You shoulda been there to see that."

Sam grins so bright Mark thinks his face probably hurts. And my God, the man actually has a smile. "Oh I saw," he chuckles. "Quite a show you put on."

Dean gives a bow, arms out on either side, before standing and putting an arm around Sam's shoulders. He finally turns to Mark. "So… how far from here?"

Mark shakes his head at both the way Sam relaxes into Dean's arm and to how he still has no clue what just happened. "What did you do back there?"

Dean grins. "Bought us time. I left an explosive on one of the barrels before tracking you guys. Set it to blow once I was far enough away and we have the all clear while they probably try to put out the fire or think we're still around there somewhere."

Mark blinks. "You tracked us?"

Dean laughs. "I'm the best tracker you've ever seen, Mark." Dean claps Sam on the back before tugging him around to start walking. "C'mon. Let's get a move on!"

Mark shakes his head. These boys are something else. He can see why Bobby was so entranced by them. "You did good, old friend," he murmurs to himself. He follows, eventually taking up the lead again.

Dean stops him when he says they're an hour out from camp. Then turns to Sam. "Will it make you feel better if we don't tell them who we really are?"

Mark looks to Sam in confusion, then realization, seeing for the first time how much the younger brother is tense and jittery. His hands are shaking. It's clear he doesn't want to go into a new place with people he doesn't know. He's already standing way inside what should be Dean's personal space. Of course, it seems these two don't have personal space apart. They share the same one.

Sam frowns. "Why?"

Dean shrugs. "Nothing to stand up to. You can just be what you want. We won't get attention. You won't have to be strong. We can just be two more people in this crappy fight."

Sam considers it. His hands stop shaking, one coming up to link a finger into the end of Dean's jacket sleeve. "That might… help," he allows quietly.

Dean grins victoriously. It's hard to find things to help Sam these days. And this is going to be a huge thing for his brother, still struggling with something he doesn't quite understand. Something that's taken a lot of his confidence in himself away and given him a ton of fears instead. "Yeah? You can make up your own name and everything." He starts getting excited as if talking to a little kid.

Sam rolls his eyes though his mouth quirks up a little. "Who will you be? No famous names either."

Dean glares. "Well you're no fun. What should my name be then?"

Sam thinks a minute. "Campbell?"

His brother blinks. "That works I guess. What about you? We shouldn't be brothers. It would give away too much I think."

"You sure?" Mark interrupts. "Not to be rude or anything, but you guys seem to share the same space more often than most guys would."

Dean chuckles, leaning into Sam when his brother lets go of the hold he had on his sleeve in embarrassment. "Let them think what they want. After the world ends, nothing anyone else thinks matters anymore." He looks to Sam. "Sammy Colt."

Sam looks down to him in surprise before returning the grin still on Dean's face. "My name's cooler."

Dean sticks his tongue out at him. Honest to God sticks his tongue out.

"You're childish."

"You need to act younger. You're getting old as it is Sammy." Dean looks back to Mark. "Call us just by Campbell and Colt. It's not like names are important anymore."

Mark nods. "We have interesting nicknames at camp anyway. No one really knows real names anymore. No one really cares."

Dean nods, clapping a hand to Sam's arm as they turn to start walking again. "See, Sam. You'll be fine. Yeah? We'll be fine here."

Sam nods. "Fine," he murmurs softly to himself. His finger attaches itself back to Dean's sleeve. He'll need a little help for this.

"Mark, go on up ahead. We'll be following. We just need a while."

Mark nods. "No problem."

Dean stops with a confused Sam and waits until Mark is too far away to possibly hear anything. Then he shoves back the mental wall labeled 'no chick-flick moments', the wall that's so thin now it barely even exists, and pulls his arm away to get Sam's finger off his sleeve but takes Sam's hand in his own to get his attention. "Hey. You know how this goes. You're turn to start."

Sam is silent for a while, hand twitching in Dean's almost as if he wants to pull away.

"I'm not letting go until we get through this. It's really awkward but it keeps you grounded. Now come on. The question of the day is…"

Sam bites his lip before answering. "What if they know?"

Dean nods, understanding. "So what if they do? You hear what Mark said about you? You aren't known as the guy who started the apocalypse anymore. You're the one who saved the world. Who took on the devil and won. They won't hate you Sam."

He continues on to the next one. "What if they see?"

Dean understands. "Things have happened to you. It doesn't matter what they see or what they say about what they see. They'll never understand what you're going through. They'll never understand what you do to get through it. They don't need to understand. So what if they see what you're like now? Only I know how far you've come. I'm the only one that matters when it comes to knowing who you are. Right?"

Sam nods. "Right." His voice is quiet, but the conviction is still evident in his voice.

Dean grins. "Damn straight." He nudges his shoulder into Sam's. "What else?"

Sam goes back to biting his lip.

"Sam. Every day is a new question…"

"I will find the answer," he murmurs back after a few seconds of silence. Then adds, "with your help," ruefully.

"When did that become a permanent fixture to that sentence?" Dean asks, amused.

"Since I realized it's true."

Dean makes a contemplative face to himself. The day it isn't true, Sam will be himself again. And Dean will be happier than he's been in what seems like a very long time. "What's next, Sam," he asks again.

Sam lets out a sound that is suspiciously close to a wine.

"Spit it out, you big baby. I'm tired of holding your hand."

Sam glares ahead before finally opening his mouth. It takes him a second to get his voice to come out. "What will they think about…?"

"Us?" Dean finishes. Then snorts. "I told Mark the truth, you know. I don't give a crap to what people think. We aren't like other people. Just like we've figured that out over the years, genius. I don't care what they think or what they say about us. We're just us. You and me. Like it or not. So stop trying to put us in the same boxes with other people. Sure, like Mark said, we're more touchy-feely than others. I've be trained by you."

Sam snorts.

"But who cares? And maybe most people like us wouldn't be able to stick with each other with all of our issues and problems. But I'm right here. And you're right here. And who cares who else is around us? Alright? I don't know about you, but I'm tired of trying to live up to everyone's expectations."

Sam doesn't answer for a while. The walk is silent, with only Mark's lone figure in front of them to keep them headed in the right direction. Then he looks over to Dean. "Okay."

Dean looks back. "Okay?"

Sam nods. "Okay. Just us."

Dean blinks before grinning, turning back ahead as Sam does. He gets it. Sam doesn't care what anyone else thinks either. He's ready to try and integrate himself back into society. Well… the society that's around now. He doesn't even notice when his hand stay's in Sam's for a few extra minutes. As he said earlier, Sam trained him.

When he does notice, he shakes it away with a scowl. "Okay. Chick-flick is one thing, but this has gotten way too girly for my taste."

Sam chuckles. "Was waitin' for you to notice."

Dean nudges him with his shoulder. "Shut up. How's your voice?"

"Hurts. Don't think it'll go back to like it was. Don't use it enough."

"Makes you sound scary," Dean teases.

Sam grins a little. "Yeah."

"You can be the strong silent type. I'll talk for you."

Sam snorts. "You already do."

Dean shoves him again, laughing when Sam sends him his bitch face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Four and a half months ago. Somewhere in the mountains in Tennessee.**

They haven't left the small mountain house that Dean stopped at when running from the leviathans. Dean's hoping it's insignificant enough that it'll be left alone. Sam's doing better. After Dean found him some books to read, Sam does that a lot now. While Dean's out making sure the impala wasn't damaged by the last storm, or bothered by the wildlife, Sam sits by and reads. When Dean's making dinner, Sam sits on the counter next to him like the first day he teased him again, or at the table close by, and reads.

Sam isn't ever very far away. And Dean doesn't mind. It's just them out here after all. The company is nice. He's given up talking to fill the silence. He likes it now. Companionship at its purest, he thinks to himself. Just him and Sam sitting in the same room is alright with him now. No need to talk. Very often, anyway. They have the radio on a lot.

But it's more than that. He feels content with the knowledge that Sam is near him. Where he can see him. Safe. And Sam wants to be near him too. Maybe it keeps him from freaking out. Keeps him grounded or something. Dean doesn't care. They've never gotten along so well before. He feels almost domesticated when he thinks about how much he cooks with their provisions from the basement and how much they lounge around since there isn't much to do anyway.

He also finds himself drawn towards Sam more often. Going out of his way to make contact. He knows Sam doesn't mean to do it, but he's training Dean. To take care of him the way he is now. He needs touch every once in a while. To keep himself in the present. Keep his mind from wandering to where it's dangerous. He's teaching Dean to reach out and touch him randomly throughout the day.

Dean doesn't realize it until he finds himself laying on the couch with his feet in Sam's lap, Sam's book resting on the previously mentioned feet. They haven't sat like this since Sam was sixteen, studying for a test while Dean watched TV and did his best to distract him, as an older brother should, by wiggling his feet. He does so now, grinning when Sam looks over and sends his patented 'bitch face' his way. He grins.

Sam almost smiles in reply. Almost. The affection is seen in his eyes anyway.

Dean takes that as a win.

It became so integrated into himself after that, he found himself reaching out during the day. And sometimes it wasn't just to ground Sam. It was to ground himself. A hand on the arm. Knees resting together. Fingers playing with the ends of Sam's insanely long hair when his arm was on the back of the couch. It just became a natural occurrence. Sam needed someone to keep him grounded. Dean was only too glad to be able to be that person.

Sam only mentions it once. After driving out to a clearing miles away from where they're staying to do what they used to. Sit on the hood of the impala and stare at the sky. They sit so close they're touching from shoulder to foot. Sam doesn't look at him as he murmurs, "Thanks." Then gets another drink of his soda. He stays away from beer these days. It makes the confusion worse.

"No problem Sammy." He doesn't need to ask what he's thanking him for. Never needs to ask about much anymore. They've never been as attuned to each other as they are now. They go back home when the sun starts to rise. Sam's healing keeps going. Dean finds little things to help him out. One thing he vows to keep doing is what he thinks of after waking Sam up from a nightmare one night.

"Sorry for waking you," Sam murmurs miserably.

"No need to be sorry, bro." They lay awake until the room starts getting lighter.

"Sometimes I hate being here another day."

Dean's breath stops with the quiet admission. "Don't say that, Sam."

"I feel like I'm just falling apart. I can't sleep without nightmares anymore, I get visions of hell, even if I don't see Lucifer sitting around anywhere or hear him talk outside of the memories. I lose sense of reality. It's a struggle even to remember the answers to things I used to know." It's the most Sam's talked in a long time.

Dean holds Sam tighter, scared at the thought of losing him. The only thing keeping him from being alone on this earth. The only person he's never been able to live without. Even if he had a hundred people around him, without Sam he'd still be alone. "You'll get through this. Soon you'll be back to your normal self. You'll be a freak again, but without the hell memories haunting you."

Sam snorts softly.

Dean grins to himself. "Every day is a new question. Even I don't know the answer all the time. But you will find the answer. Okay?"

It's quiet for a second. Then, "Okay. Thanks Dean."

Dean lets a small smile form on his face.

The first day the old Sam resurfaces again after the housewife jibe, it's the guilty side of Sam. The side that always finds a way to bring up something that makes him feel guilty and have to talk about it before he lets it go. Dean's unwrapping his leg to test it out as they sit on the porch when Sam looks over to him and murmurs, "I'm sorry."

Dean immediately drops what he's doing and looks to Sam with a serious glare. "No. We are not getting into that. Especially since we both know that there isn't any way this is your fault. You were out. Like, 'I thought you were dying' out. It's fine."

"'M still sorry." He shrugs.

Dean glares. "Well don't be. Now help me up, sasquatch." He pushes Sam up from the porch steps, grabbing onto his arm after he's standing to pull himself up. As Sam puts a hand to his shoulder to steady him, he takes a breath. It's been four weeks. His leg should be healed by now. He hasn't touched it to the ground since the third day he had it wrapped. A stupid step down to reach for something. It hurt enough to keep him from doing it since.

"You wanna wait a few more days?" Sam's voice is softly concerned.

"No. I'm fine." He puts is foot down in defiance, slowly putting weight on it. There's a twinge, but nothing he can't handle. He nods to himself. "It'll be fine." He takes a step, wincing.

Sam hasn't let go of his arm. "Maybe you should keep it wrapped. Give it some help to stay stable."

Dean thinks about it. "Maybe. It'd be smart, huh?"

Sam nods. "Double breaks aren't good."

Dean snorts. "You're telling me." He turns to limp the two steps to the stairs. He lets out a breath as he lowers himself to sit. He's silent for a minute. "I really got messed up this time, Sammy."

Sam frowns in worry at the sound of defeat in Dean's voice. "No." He sits next to him. "You'll heal and be back to normal in no time. You'll see."

Dean looks at the ground. "The leviathans are still out there. And the two best hunters are crippled."

Sam's face falls. "Don't give up." His voice cracks on the last word.

Dean looks up in alarm.

Sam shakes his head. "Don't give up, Dean. I need you… I need you to not give up. It's the only thing keeping me from giving up too. Okay? Every day is a question, right? You tell me I'll find the answer. You have to believe it too, Dean. We both need to believe that if we're going to keep from giving up."

Dean looks down at his leg. Then nods. "You got it."

Sam lets out a breath. "Okay." He reaches out to take the wrapping that has held Dean's leg together for the past weeks. He carefully maneuvers Dean's leg out straight and goes to work. He's silent until he's done, then looks up at Dean, a hand still on his leg. "I won't give up if you won't. Deal?"

Dean looks at him, smiling softly. "Alright. Deal."

Sam smiles back. "Okay." He stands, helping Dean to his feet and walking him into the house. "Use the crutches for another week."

"Aw, c'mon!"

"Dean…"

A sigh. "I hate you."

"'Course you do."

"I really do."

"Dinner?"

"Make it yourself, bitch."

Sam sighs. "What do you want for dinner?"

Dean looks up at him as he sits on the couch. "Have fun with it." He's actually interested to see Sam's cooking skills. It's very rare that they ever cooked anything big for themselves back then. And since things changed, only Dean has cooked.

Sam rolls his eyes. "No complaining."

Dean shrugs. "You've never complained about my cooking. I won't complain about yours." The smile he gets in return makes his little second of being nice worth it.

The electric goes out two days later. From the TV, the movement of the leviathans across the continent is tracked until the cable goes out right before the electric. They're taking over everything that needs to be monitored like dams and waste plants so the world doesn't blow up but are quickly moving into levels of power. Cities are being destroyed, people are being killed. Dean's actually glad the power goes out. He's tired of seeing that look on Sam's face as he sees the world as they know it disappearing.

They make a fireplace in the living room and one in their bedroom, using rocks and dirt from the land. The hardest part is making a chimney for each so they don't die of smoke inhalation. Sam scowled when Dean joked about that. Their food supply is also practically gone. Dean starts to wonder whether to take Sam with him when he gets more down in the town, or to leave him here. He decides to ask Sam what he'll be more comfortable with.

"Hey. We need food."

Sam stiffens in his chair. Then lowers the book he's reading. Dean thinks it's the last one of those too. "I know."

"You gonna be alright coming with me?"

Sam sighs, setting the book on the table. "Honestly? I don't know. But we need to find out. I'm tired of not being sure of myself."

Dean nods. "Okay. We'll go tomorrow. Bright and early."

Sam nods, and that's that. The house is silent until they get into bed that night. They still don't talk much, not really needing to, but Sam looks to Dean when he lays down. "I know you hate when I ask these questions, so I'll be fair and only ask once. Do you ever get tired of having to take care of me? Not even being able to sleep by yourself anymore? Losing sleep because of me?"

Dean rolls to his side, propping his head on his hand with a sigh. "And I'll only answer this once," he says softly. "I don't mind. I really don't. You're my brother, Sam. I've always taken care of you. And I don't mind sharing a bed. Better being here to make the nightmares go away rather than having to get out of another bed or room to walk over here. You lose sleep over nightmares, I lose it to pull you out of them. I honestly have the better deal here."

Sam nods once, looking up at Dean. "Okay."

One side of Dean's mouth quirks up. "Go to sleep, Francis." He lays down, not turning away just for the sake of Sam not thinking he's pulling a wall up. He feels the room colder than before, noticing their fire is a little low. He doesn't feel like getting out of bed. He scoots more under the covers, and the slightest bit closer to Sam. "Besides," he mutters, "you're warm."

Sam's low chuckle sounds as close to genuinely happy and relaxed as Dean has heard him in a very long time.


	6. Chapter 6

Present 

They've fenced in the camp quite spectacularly, Dean observes. Wooden and stone outposts (recycled buildings or hand built) between metal fencing with both razor wire and barbed wire on top. Looking closer, he even sees it weaved into the fence. He feels a little respect for these people. They don't take a chance on anything.

Sam walks next to him, his walls up in full force. His face is hard, eyes steely. He looks more tightly drawn than when he and Dean walked into the camp to meet Mark, Dean notices. Sam looks down at him, jaw clenching as he makes himself walk a respectable distance from Dean. He stands tall. He's barricaded himself up to keep people from wanting to talk to him.

Dean can see it. He also knows that the wall wouldn't do anything to keep him out. Sam always leaves a gap in it for him. He moves over, walking closer to Sam since he knows Sam's not going to, even though he wants to. They share a look.

Sam finally speaks. His voice is low, deeper than usual. A gravely warning that he's not in the mood to be nice. Dean's the exception. "I'm alright, Dean."

Dean shrugs. "Didn't say you weren't." He steps even closer.

Sam's eyes soften. A split second, a tiny spark of affection filled annoyance in his eyes before he looks away. His hand rests on the handle of his blade at his side. Just something he does for reassurance. He doesn't move away from Dean.

Mark walks up, waving to a man behind the fence line. Then pulls out a small knife. He shows the man behind the fence he isn't a leviathan by cutting into his arm and letting the red of his blood show. No black goo. He jerks his head to Sam and Dean behind him. "Have some new recruits." He turns to them. "You mind showing him?"

Dean steps forward first, pulling his smaller pocket knife out of his back pocket and sliding the blade cleanly over his arm. He lets the blood slide down his arm for a bit to show the man, then turns to Sam. He locks eyes with him, judging if Sam is okay with this. Sure, they've trained and hurt each other getting back in shape, but that was in the security of their little clearing around their house.

Sam looks back, stepping forward and handing his arm over without hesitation. He doesn't even flinch as the blade cuts into his arm, just looks to the man behind the fence and holds it out to show him.

If he were honest with himself, the guard would say that these two made him nervous. The way they look like a force within themselves, even though they haven't even done anything. The shorter one, though he's definitely a decent height too, seems relaxed. Even in a new place, he seems like he's the center of the three men. Like if anything happened, he'd be the one calling the shots and taking care of the threat.

The tall one gets to him more, though. The way he just stands behind the shoulder of the other, his presence almost engulfing the other two in his silence. He radiates restrained power. And possibly… instability? His piercing eyes don't stay trained on anything for long.

They remind him, he thinks suddenly, of carnivorous flowers. They're both good looking. Anyone could see that. The short one is more pretty than the other, but even then, he looks just as solid and dangerous as the taller one. They'd draw people in, he thinks to himself, by their looks that portray them as nice people. Then they'd let their danger show and take them out. He can see there aren't any other men like these in this camp.

He reluctantly nods when he sees their clean blood, signaling for the two men at the lock of the gate to let them in.

Mark nods to him, leading the way in. The two new recruits don't even acknowledge the others around the gate.

The guard keeps watching, blinking in surprise when a smile way too content for these times spreads across the shorter one's face as he looks up at his companion. The taller one doesn't smile, though he tilts his head, and walks a little closer to him. A look down shows his hand resting on a decently long knife strapped to his side, an intricate sheath hiding the blade.

He just let those two into this camp, and he has no idea whether he should be regretting that or not.

"You guys can sure play up the hostile card."

Dean chuckles. "Sam's defense mechanism. He can seem pretty scary." He smiles up at Sam, taking the 'of course I can' from the tilt of his head before he steps closer as they walk.

Mark nods to himself. "I think you really made Steel nervous."

Dean looks to him. "How many people do you have in this camp? Memorizing names is going to be a challenge."

Mark laughs. "We have a good number. Haven't looked at the census sheet in a while. But don't worry, we have groups. You just need to know your group and the lead guards if you want. And don't worry, I'll take care of you guys. We have an empty cabin I'll take you to where you guys will stay. It's a little bit separated from the rest of the camp. That's why no one's really claimed it. We're big on 'safety in numbers' here."

Dean nods. "Sounds perfect. Sam and I have never needed numbers."

Sam quirks a smile, though it doesn't look happy like Dean's did earlier. It looks amused, sure, but with his emotional walls up, everything he does is darker. It reminds Dean of when Sam didn't have his soul. It'd make him nervous if he didn't know how much it's what Sam's actually trying to do. Look like he doesn't care.

Sam's smile makes Mark shiver, who shakes his head. "Of course not." It looks like he won't have to tell the men to keep their distance from these two. Sam will communicate that perfectly without words. "Right now we're headed to the meeting building. An emptied store. One big room. It's where we make our plans and organize things. They should be meeting in there today to take another census since more recruits should have been brought in."

"More recruits?" Dean asks.

"Like how I brought you two. We go out and see who wants to help every few weeks. It's usually squad leaders that are sent out. Everyone's supposed to be back today." He leads them up to the one of the biggest buildings in the camp, opening the door and motioning them inside. They scan the place as they walk in.

There are four separate groups of people, all off in their own corner of the building. The middle is left open for a few people at tables with papers and drawing boards lined up with notes and drawings on them. There are piles of supplies being stacked against the walls between all of the groups, acting as barriers to separate them, and those seem to get recorded too. It's a well-oiled machine, Dean notices with approval.

Sam leans over, murmuring, "These people might stand a chance."

Dean nods. "Let's see what all they know."

Mark turns to him. "They'll tell the new recruits everything in a bit. Let's just get you guys accounted for."

Dean looks around, already noticing looks their way. He knows the picture they make. Sam and his ability to tower over most people just by being, even if they aren't that much shorter, and sometimes even the taller. And there's Dean, features that are both sharp and friendly at the same time right now. He rarely has to be the one that looks dangerous now, letting that be Sam's forte. One of them has to be nice to communicate with people.

Also, they haven't really put any effort in concealing what they're packing. Dean with his guns on his sides, and Sam with his knife. Sam has a gun at his back too, but he doesn't use it. The knife gives him the control he needs. He uses it as an extension of his own body. Something he can feel, rather than a gun. Stability is important with Sam these days.

Looking around, Dean notices it's different from when they walked into the camp they met Mark in. Instead of looking away, most of them keep looking. Trying not to look intimidated. Dean gives them credit for it. These people know what it'll take to take down the leviathans. Looking danger in the eye is always a good trait to have. Dean looks to Sam again as they make it to the middle of the room.

Sam looks down, expression flat, but Dean sees the way he's been evaluating everyone too. "They're afraid. But they're determined to ignore it," he decides.

Dean nods.

Mark turns to them. "You're quiet conversations that none of us can hear are making people more nervous," he says, rolling his eyes. "It would make me uncomfortable too."

Dean snorts, a small grin spreading across his face. "Good. Then everyone understands us." He looks back to Sam. "Right, Sammy?"

One side of Sam's mouth quirks up.

The person they walk up to at the table looks up at their approach, eyes guarded before looking to Mark. "These your people?"

Mark nods. "The only ones."

"You sure know how to pick 'em," he mutters so only Mark can hear.

Sam reads his lips, snorting almost silently as he watches Mark's mouth twitch up a little in amusement.

Dean looks to him in question.

Sam shakes his head a tiny bit.

Dean rolls his eyes.

Sam touches him with his shoulder lightly. A barely there tap. _I'll tell you later._

"Names?"

"Campbell and Colt," Dean answers.

The guy writes the names down. "You have your own weapons?"

Dean lays out his guns, pulling out his multiple blades and watching Sam's smirk grow with each one he sets down. When Dean sees the look on the face of the guy sitting at the table, he shrugs. "When it's just you and one other person out there, it's safe to have everything with you." He grins.

The man nods, eyes still wide as he makes some marks on the paper. Then looks nervously up at Sam. "You?"

Sam reaches to his back, pulling out his gun and moving his jacket back to show his knife on his side as he reaches down to pull a slightly smaller one from under his jeans.

Dean nods in approval. "He travels light. Most of the others are in our bags."

He thinks back to when they had to empty the trunk of the Impala. How horrible it was deciding what they could carry. Sam only had a few special weapons. A few knives Dean gave him and his two favorite guns, though Dean doesn't think he's touched them other than to clean them since before the leviathan fire.

The man at the table looks between the two. "We just like to know what everyone has here. No specifics. Just marking down that you have your own knives and guns. Keeps us from passing out ours to people who don't need them."

Dean nods. "This is your camp, I'm not questioning. It's fine."

Mark turns to them. "You guys can go with squad four. That corner over there." He nods to one of the corners of the room. "I'm the leader of that squad, so don't worry, I'll make sure everyone leaves you alone."

Dean nods. "Thanks Mark."

"Not much more to do today. Just have to go around and say names, pass out the packet of maps and information, and then I'll take you guys to your cabin. Most of them hold at least five guys. But that cabin is small, plus I'll just go ahead and assume it'd be best if it were just you two."

Dean nods. "You assume right."

Sam stands at his shoulder, eyes moving over the men in their squad. An average bunch. Of course, it's hard to tell by just looking at them. Skill is where it counts. His head flinches to the right when he hears someone step up to him, relaxing when he sees someone nervously eyeing him as he hands a packet to Dean before moving on to the rest of their group.

"Easy, Sam." Dean lets his arm touch his brother's as he skims the packet. He holds it out to the side so Sam can read over his shoulder.

"Maps. Detailed."

Dean nods. "Camp, land around camp, and what they know of where leviathans are posted. I'm impressed."

"Recons."

Dean nods.

Sam reaches over to point out something on the next page. "Their info on Dick is low."

Dean nods. "We'll help them with that sometime. I'll talk with Mark."

Sam tenses when someone walks by him, hand gripping the handle of his knife.

Dean looks up at him over his shoulder. "Relax, Sam. It's safe here. No one's going to hurt us."

Sam shrugs one shoulder a little.

Dean turns, patting him on his chest over his heart, before looking for Mark. "I'll see if we can settle down a little early. Okay?" He can see Sam shutting down. Sentences shortening before totally going silent.

Sam nods. He follows Dean, right at his shoulder, while he looks for Mark. When they find him, he's going over something with the guy from the front table.

He looks up when they approach. "Hey guys. One of our scouts hasn't come back yet. We're postponing the meeting until tomorrow to see if they make it." His expression says the words he doesn't. That if the missing person doesn't show up, it's possible they never will.

Dean nods once. "So it's alright if we settle for the night?"

Mark nods. "I'll take you guys to your cabin." He hands the papers back to the guy from the table. "Thanks Sketch. You do good work." He sends him off before motioning for Sam and Dean to follow him. "That's Sketch. We call him that because he makes all of these maps for us. And keeps track of most of our supplies."

Sam's eyebrows raise a little.

Dean notices, voicing the thought his brother won't say. "Impressive."

Mark chuckles. "He's been great." He leads the brothers from the crowded building, motioning to some of the buildings as they pass. "That's our usual meeting building for leaders. The one over there is our holding. We rarely have to use it though." He leads them through the darkening streets. "If you ever need to find something, anyone around here could direct you."

Dean nods, eyes scanning over the scenery and the few people out walking around. He notices the mix of interest and wariness. "I've noticed you guys don't know a few things about the leviathans that we do."

Mark nods. "I'm sure we don't. I was thinking about bringing you guys up at the meeting tomorrow to catch everyone up on what you know. They were after you in the beginning after all. I'm sure you two are still up on their hit list."

Dean nods. "You have no idea."

Mark waves towards a group of cabins. "Here's most of our homes." Leading them around a bend in the road, he motions ahead to a smaller cabin set away from the rest. "Here it is. It's got one bedroom, a bathroom, and the front area that's kitchen and living space. Not much furniture, but we want it to be more like an empty home rather than an army bunker."

Dean chuckles. "Understandable. Since most of you guys have been here a while."

Mark nods. "They're our homes. Like a bunch of frat houses."

Dean laughs. "I'm sure. Anyone get out of line?"

Mark rolls his eyes. "Very few, but we have a night every once in a while that gets rowdy. Usually after a successful recon or supply run."

They walk into the cabin, Dean and Sam stepping in silently out of habit. They look the place over, Dean nodding in approval when he sees he'll be able to push the beds together to make sure Sam doesn't have nightmares. "Looks great Mark. Thanks."

Mark shrugs. "No problem guys. I should be thanking you for helping us. You guys will be a good asset. And I know how much you could be avoiding this whole thing."

"We should help," Sam answers lowly, eyes moving over the kitchen area with interest.

Dean nods. "We might still have some crap to get together, but we should help clean up this mess. It's mostly our fault anyway."

Mark shakes his head, but doesn't argue. Knows it won't do any good. "Sleep well guys. The meeting is tomorrow at noon. Breakfast is always from eight to nine, lunch will be before and during the meeting. Dinner is always at five to six."

Dean nods. "Thanks Mark."

He leaves, shutting the door behind him with a click.

Dean looks to Sam. "Let's see how you do sleeping in a new place. It'd be a good idea to try and go to bed early in case it doesn't work."

Sam's mouth quirks up in a half grin as he walks with Dean into the bedroom and sets his bag down on the table against the wall by the door. "Okay."

They get ready for bed silently, both pushing the two beds together before getting in. They face each other, Sam linking a finger in the collar of Dean's shirt for reassurance before he closes his eyes.

"I'm right here, Sam."

He falls asleep, content with that knowledge.


	7. Chapter 7

Four months, three weeks ago. Still in the cabin.

Sam hasn't stepped out of the clearing they've been living in. Dean has, though he's never left Sam's sight. He'd walk around, setting up alarms in case someone comes by. Sets up traps for wildlife. It's why they haven't left for food until now. Now though, Sam looks at the separation of dirt to gravel, hesitant to take a step away from what's comfortable.

Dean stands right next to him, chewing his lip. "You could stay here?" It's posed as a question. Keeping the ball in Sam's court.

That sounds even more terrifying to Sam. He shakes his head. "No. I'll… I'll be fine." He links his finger in Dean's jacket sleeve.

Dean looks down to his arm in surprise. "You sure? I don't want you going all Rain man on me."

Sam bites his lip, letting go of Dean's sleeve. "Sorry. 'M fine."

Dean studies his brother. "You know you can tell me you're not, right?

Sam is silent for a second. Then, "What was I like?"

"When?"

"When I was out of it. The first thing I remember of here is you washing the dishes one night. You kept looking over your shoulder at me. Why?"

Dean swallows, nodding as he looks away. "That was the first day you actually looked at me like you were seeing me."

Sam tilts his head.

"You were almost comatose," Dean tells, shrugging. "I had to feed you, move you… uhh…" He grimaces.

Sam snorts. "You raised me, Dean."

Dean shrugs. "Still awkward. But anyway, it wasn't good. Like the lights were on but nobody was home. You looked, but you didn't see. Not until that night. I had to keep checking to make sure I wasn't kidding myself."

Sam nods to himself.

Dean watches him. "Why?"

Sam shakes his head. "Nothing."

Dean doesn't push him. Much. "What do you remember from that time?"

"Not now, Dean," Sam murmurs.

It takes him a few seconds, but Dean finally nods, nudging Sam with his shoulder. "C'mon, man. We need to go get supplies. What do you need?"

Sam frowns. "Uhh… I'm not picky."

Dean shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. A nervous tick Sam recognizes. "I mean, what do you need to feel comfortable? If you need to do what you were doing earlier…"

Sam blinks.

Dean shrugs. "I've noticed contact helps. So if you need to hold onto me… it's fine. You can."

Sam looks down for a second before looking back to Dean. His hand hesitantly reaches out to fist in the sleeve of Dean's jacket. "Thanks." His voice is barely a whisper.

Dean nods once. "I'm here, Sam. I'm real. It's fine. Alright?"

Sam steps closer, knuckles white as he grips Dean's sleeve. "Yeah."

"Every day is a new question…"

"I will find the answer," Sam finishes in a whisper.

Dean grins. "Exactly. C'mon. I want some new food." He starts walking, Sam right at his shoulder with a small grin.

They walk down through the woods to the small town in case they have to duck somewhere and get away from someone who would recognize them. They aren't sure how many leviathans are around here. They don't really want to take any chances.

The town is empty. The brothers look around at the abandoned place in silence. There's no sign of destruction here though. It's as if they left in a hurry, but as a precaution rather than panic. Quick enough to avoid being snuffed out by the creatures. A lot of the cars are gone. Store lights are still on. The only way this place is still running is because the leviathans haven't come through. And if they have, the left silently because there is no one here.

"Well… at least we won't have to pay for anything."

Sam looks down at Dean, eyes full of despair.

"No." He shakes his head. "This isn't our fault, Sam. These monsters are more than anyone has been able to handle. It isn't just us. Why do you think they haven't been stopped yet?" He puts a hand to Sam's shoulder. "None of this is your fault."

Sam doesn't totally agree, but he lets it go.

Dean hotwires an SUV, driving it from store to store as they pick up any food they think they need. Or want. They pick up batteries for flashlights, more ammo, a few guns, and other miscellaneous supplies. Sam has to let go of Dean's sleeve of course, but he doesn't go far. Until Dean does.

He looks up after filling a cart with packages of water bottles, heart stuttering in his chest to almost a stop when he sees the space his brother was recently occupying, completely empty. "Dean?" His voice is a choked plea.

"See," Lucifer taunts, suddenly at his side. "I told you it wasn't real. You're all alone here. There is no Dean."

Sam is blindsided by the reappearance of Lucifer. He's been gone since the hit in his head. And his dreams. But now he's back. He looks down at his hand, knowing the fading scar won't help him anymore.

"No use trying, right?"

Sam grits his teeth. "Shut up." He leaves the cart of water, sprinting down the aisle to look around for his brother. "Dean?"

"He isn't real, Sam. None of it has been. I could take any of it away at any second. Even your precious big brother."

Sam starts hyperventilating. "Dean!" His voice borders on a panicked scream. As much of a scream as his low and gritty voice can manage. His eyes restlessly scan the aisles as he jogs down the length of the empty store. "Dean!" Tears start blurring his vision. He can't still be in hell. He can't still be at the mercy of Lucifer. He just _can't._

He suddenly freezes, heart tripping over itself when he suddenly hears an answering voice. One syllable. His name, he recognizes the second time. "Dean!" He books it towards the other end of the store.

His brother walks around the end of an aisle, chest heaving as if he had been running too. "Sammy." Even though he doesn't yell, Sam can still hear it.

He barely slows as he reaches his brother, colliding with him almost violently. The only thing keeping Dean from falling backwards from the impact is Sam's arms closing tightly around him. "Dean." It's a desperate, choked plea.

Dean grips him back, just as tight. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry. I forgot. I was so stupid and I forgot. Just went to the back storage to see if they have anything we might need there. I shouldn't have left. I'm sorry."

Sam holds tightly on to him, holding back the sobs that want to break free. He tucks his face into his brother's neck. "It's okay," he whispers. "I shouldn't need you all the time."

Dean tightens his hold even more, shaking his head a bit. "It's alright Sam. It's not your fault. Really. It was me. I was stupid." They stand like that for a long time before Dean finally loosens up and Sam follows. His hand doesn't leave where it's clenched in Dean's sleeve again. "You alright?"

Sam's eyes move over his brother, taking in every detail. Everything so perfectly… Dean. The devil couldn't fake this. Not his brother. Sam would be able to tell the difference. "Fine. 'M sorry."

Dean pats his arm, eyes apologetic. "I promise to think before I move, okay?"

Sam nods once.

Dean nods back. "Okay. C'mon. Let's go back and get the water."

Sam doesn't let go of Dean's sleeve again. Dean doesn't make him.

By the time they're done, they have an SUV filled with everything. Sam had to let go of Dean's sleeve to pack the car, but now he's standing chest to shoulder with him again.

Dean looks to Sam with a grin.

Sam rolls his eyes.

When they get in the car, Sam sits inches away from Dean's side, hand clenched around Dean's sleeve again. He doesn't relax until they're back at the cabin. When they drive into the clearing, he lets out a breath.

"Home sweet home," Dean breathes.

Sam nods his agreement.

They unload the car, Sam letting Dean farther away, but still keeping him in hearing distance. Dean keeps up a constant stream of talk, meaningless and petty most of the time, but it keeps Sam sane. When they're done, Dean collapses on the couch.

"C'mon, Sam. Let's take a nap. I'm exhausted and I'm sure you are too after that panic attack back there."

Sam hangs his head sheepishly.

Dean rolls his eyes. "No need to worry about it anymore. I know you don't like me being out of your sight. I was stupid. Now come lay down. The bags under your eyes are growing."

Sam sticks his tongue out.

Dean grins. "Bitch."

Sam gives him a look that doesn't need any words. _Jerk._

Dean moves his feet so Sam can lay down, head on the opposite arm rest. He lays his legs right on top of Sam's. A sense of protection. Heat and weight to let Sam know Dean is right there. Dean watches his brother's eyes close from his end of the couch. It's huge. Something Sam had commented on loving sometime within the first week he was talking. Just a tiny little comment he used to let Dean know he was still trying to pull himself from his silence.

"Thank you."

Dean smiles at the quiet words. Again, Sam letting him know that he was still fully there mentally. Though Dean knows he's had a little drawback today. He'll be quiet for a while. But Dean's gotten used to that. "No problem, Sammy."

He waits until Sam is breathing evenly and deeply before letting his eyes close too. Hopefully his brother gets a break today and actually gets a few hours of sleep.

Four months, one week ago.

Dean's tired of the screaming. Tired of the torture his brother has to go through every night in his dreams because of the collapsed wall. He just doesn't know what to do about it. He's wiping the sweat-soaked strands of hair from his brother's forehead one night after a particularly bad night when he gets an idea.

"What if I found a spell?"

Sam's eyes snap open. "You hate using magic."

Dean sighs. "I don't know what else to do, Sammy. Neither of us are sleeping, you're going to drop dead if you don't get more sleep, and I can't take the sound of your screaming anymore. I have to make it stop. What if I found a spell?"

Sam eyes him sadly. "I don't know of one…"

"We'll go see if there's a library or antique shop or something in the town down there. I'll find every book of witchcraft I can get my hands on."

Sam's eyes, looking so young at the moment, lock onto Dean's. "I'd do it," he murmurs.

Dean lets out a sigh. "That's it then. I will find something to help you."

Sam doesn't reply. His face doesn't show belief or doubt. Just hope.

Dean gets up. "You try to sleep. Okay? I won't be long. I promise."

They've been trying to slowly get Sam used to the idea of Dean being gone for little periods of time. Easing him out of a crippling weakness that could get them killed when they decide to leave their cabin. From what Dean knows, it's been okay. They've gotten it up to a couple hours. It won't take him that long to grab the books he might need.

Sam just watches him leave the bedroom, curling up in the warm spot his brother leaves behind. He pulls most of the covers over himself. It always seems colder when Dean's not around. And he knows he won't be getting any sleep while his brother is gone. He doesn't tell Dean how agitated he is when he's gone. How he barely keeps himself from going crazy. Tonight though… he's exhausted. Instead of his usual pacing, he just stays curled up in the bed, telling himself over and over his brother is real and he'll be back soon.

The impala peels out of their clearing, going down to the mountain to the small town at the bottom at what should be a frightening speed. But not to Dean. He knows his baby. It's no time before he's skidding to a stop in front of a library. Research has always been Sam's thing, so it takes him a while to figure out exactly where he should be looking. Eventually, he's letting out a triumphant 'ah ha!' and loading his arms with books. They've been buried in a long forgotten storage room, dusty and piled as if they were on their way to getting disposed of. Probably because of some in the community not wanting these types of books available for their children. Honestly, Dean doesn't blame them. Magic isn't something to play with.

It takes him a few trips to get them all to the car, throwing them in the trunk with less care than he probably should use for books as old as these. But he's in a hurry. He's barely been gone forty five minutes before he's pulling up in front of their cabin. He grabs an armful of the books and heads inside, sighing in relief when he walks into the bedroom to see Sam giving him a reassuring smile.

"You alright?"

Sam nods.

"Okay. I found a ton of books. I'll bring them in and we can get to looking." He sets his first armload on the bed. "Here you go. Get to your geeky self and research." He grins when Sam rolls his eyes, glad his brother was okay while he was gone. After unloading the car, he takes his own armload and sits against the headboard next to Sam. He bumps his foot against his brother's. Sam bumps back. They're silent as they read.


	8. Chapter 8

Present.

Dean wakes only a couple hours after falling asleep. It only takes him a split second to figure out why. The screaming coming from his brother is something he had never wanted to hear again. It's such an agonizing sound. Something he only ever hears from Sam when he's dreaming of his time in the cage. It's what brought up the search for something that would stop the nightmares. The spell that currently isn't working.

"Sam. Sammy." Reaching over to his brother's thrashing body and wrapping his arms tightly around him, he pulls him back against his chest to keep him from hurting himself. "Sam. Wake up, man. You aren't there anymore. You're safe. We got you out. You're okay, Sam. You're okay, Sammy." He sets his head on his brothers, keeping his mouth close to his brother's ear as he murmurs to him.

He continues for what could have been an hour before Sam calms down enough to stop screaming and thrashing. He snaps awake with one last whimper, eyes snapping open and his whole body tensing. At the feel of the tight hold around him, he squeezes his eyes closed. He takes a shaky breath. "Dean?"

Dean winces at the sound of Sam's voice. The screaming really did a number on it. "Right here, Sam." He feels like he got a few bruises from Sam's thrashing, but that's not important.

Sam's whole body relaxes, seemingly collapsing back into Dean in relief. "Oh God."

Dean relaxes his hold, but doesn't move away other than to grip his brother's arm. "You're alright man. You're not there anymore."

"I actually wish the hallucinations were back instead of this," he breathes quietly.

Dean sighs. "I'm sorry."

Sam lets out a harsh chuckle. "They weren't as bad. It was a lesser evil I guess. Like Cas had taken away the wall, but my mind didn't know the memories could be retrieved yet."

"Then after the incident with Dick…" Dean trails off as Sam nods a little.

"I got hit hard enough and messed up enough that it all poured out." His hand comes up to pat Dean's hand. "Have to sleep with my older brother like I'm five again so he can make the nightmares go away."

"We've been over this, Sam. It's not your fault. And if this is all I have to do to keep you in one piece, if this is it, then it isn't a hardship at all. Besides, you're warm. Good use when it gets cold out."

Sam huffs out a laugh. He rolls onto his back when Dean finally loosens his hold, though he doesn't move very far. "Looks like we have to do it again."

Dean cringes. That's right. He didn't check it tonight. "Damnit. I'm sorry."

Sam frowns, looking to Dean in the slight light let in from the moon through the window. "For what?"

"I didn't check it tonight. I knew it was fading. I should have checked it."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Dean, this is probably going to happen a lot before we find a way to make it stick. It won't be your fault and I won't ever blame you. So chill out and go back to sleep. We'll redo it in the morning."

Dean huffs. "Whatever. Bitch."

Sam smiles to himself, settling in. "Jerk."

The first thing Dean does in the morning is sharpen his knife. He wants this to be as painless for Sam as possible. Clean cut will make this easier and quicker. As soon as it's light enough, he drags Sam out the door of their small cabin.

Sam smirks. "We have all day, Dean. Mark won't make us do anything when we tell him what we're doing."

"Wanna get it done Sam. Just go. Shirt off."

Sam sighs, albeit affectionately. "Always trying to get me naked," he teases.

Dean snorts. "Oh you know me, Sammy." They go to a more grassy area behind their cabin, throwing a pillow down. "Get comfy. It's not gonna be quick."

"Relax. I know what it's going to be like. Let's just get it over with." He lays down on his stomach, arms up around the pillow to hold it under his head. "Have at it."

Dean lays a paper next to Sam. The drawing of the sigil on his back, and the incantation he needs to say before finishing it. Taking out his knife, he takes a breath. Flashes of his own time in hell assault him when he grips the blade. Just like last time. With the intention to cut into someone, the memories surge forward. He flinches when he feels a hand on his knee. He looks down to see Sam looking worriedly at him.

"It's alright Dean. It's just me."

He shakes his head with a disgusted snort. "That's what makes it worse."

The hand grips his knee for a second. "I need it Dean. You're doing it because it'll help me." He moves his arm back up and lays still. "I trust you. Just like last time."

With one last deep breath, Dean leans over his brother, placing his left hand on Sam's shoulder to keep steady. "Alright Sam. Here we go. Let me know-"

"If I need a break, I know." Sam turns his head to give him a crooked smile. "Honestly Dean. If you don't do it right now, I'm going to get someone else to."

Dean levels a glare. Nobody takes a knife to Sam. Except him of course. "Over my dead body," he growls. He slaps Sam's head before leaning down again. "Hold still."

Sam grins smugly to himself. As if he'd ever trust someone enough to do this besides Dean. Then he clenches his jaw as Dean starts.

The two brothers have always been close, but they haven't always trusted each other. Situations that have pulled them apart and put them back together again took a toll on their relationship a time or two. But right now, in this moment like the time before, it's almost impossible to be any closer.

Sam's eyes are closed. He's completely relaxed. Totally dependent on Dean to protect him if anything happens right now. And trusting him to not make a wrong move. The sigil is big in order to get the small details right with a blade. It's from the middle of one shoulder to the other, from the top vertebra at his neck to halfway down his back. One wrong move, a slip, and quite a few things could go wrong. Especially the fact that the sigil wouldn't work at all, not to mention pointless pain and blood. A needle to make a tattoo would be better. Smaller, though it still would probably have to be a little big, and permanent. But they haven't found the means to do that yet.

Dean is focused. His eyes are on his 'work', trusting Sam to keep still. Totally dependent on Sam to not move and make this easier for him and safer for his brother. He's also aware of how vulnerable Sam is right now. He's alert, listening for any sign of danger though he's focused on what he's doing. That's why twenty minutes in, he freezes. His hand grips the blade tighter as he tenses and turns to the footsteps approaching.

The man approaching freezes at the look of complete hostility on Dean's face. It's a warning. Dangerous. The man's eyes move from his face to the blade then, going tense at the sight of blood on the tip. "What's going on here?"

Sam's eyes are open, watching the situation. When he sees the nervousness of the man, he lifts his head to rest it on his arm, grimacing a little at the sting when his shoulders move. "It's alright." His voice is low, more rough than usual from the way he overexerted it last night from screaming. It's also the only time he's talked to anyone but Dean and Mark in the past half year.

The guy looks to him incredulously, shivering at the voice. He can't make eye contact, Sam's shuttered face making him almost as nervous as Dean's knife. Who are these people?

Dean finally gets himself calmed down enough to be at least a little civil to the man. Boy, really. Looks to be about in his younger twenties. He's got a little to learn yet. Like minding his own business. "It's not your business. Walk away." He looks down to Sam. "You doin' alright?"

Sam quirks a half smile. "Fine." He looks to the man. "Seriously. I'm fine."

Mark comes up behind him then, quirking an eyebrow at Dean before turning to the man next to him. "Drew. It's alright. These guys have their own agendas. Their own story. Leave them alone."

Drew, Dean and Sam gather, looks back to them. "Can I just ask why? Just to feel like I'm not leaving anything dangerous."

Dean chuckles, taking Mark's easiness of the situation to mean that he doesn't expect Drew to start trouble. "It's a spell. Keeps nightmares away."

Drew scowls. "Nightmares? You guys can't take a few nightmares?"

Dean's gaze gets cold. "You ever been to Hell, Drew? You ever been with the devil and an archangel while they tortured you?"

"Dean," Sam murmurs.

Drew's eyes get big, memories of stories told around campfires surging forward. These two fit the profile and... the one laying down had said, 'Dean'. "God, I'm sorry. You're Sam and Dean, aren't you?" He looks to Mark. "Why didn't you tell anyone who they really are?"

Mark nods grimly. "This is why. They don't want recognition right now. They're still trying to get some crap together."

Drew looks back to them with a grimace. "I'm sorry. I was just surprised at the... blood involved in whatever is going on here."

Sam looks at him and gives him a small, wry grin that gives him goose bumps. "When it comes to me and Dean, it's best if everyone just butts out."

Dean looks down at him, letting himself be a little proud of how Sam is talking to someone other than himself. "Lay down and lay still before you mess up my work."

Sam sighs, laying back down. "Was trying to keep you from killing the poor kid."

Dean taps his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah I hear ya, bitch." He gets back to work, falling back into his rhythm without even a second glance to Drew and Mark. He listens though as Mark leads the boy away.

"Those two have their own beat they follow when they're not fitting in to ours. They're not like anything any of us will understand. Both went to Hell, both came back different. No one will be able to understand them better than each other. It's best just to leave them be."

Drew cuts in. "I've heard of the way they are together. Hunts they've taken down faster than any other pair of hunters. The things they've gotten through with each other. People say they're soul mates even though they're brothers and…" his voice gets softer and softer as they walk away until they're gone.

Dean works. It doesn't matter what people say about them. They're just… them. SamandDean. An explanation just isn't needed. He keeps working. An hour goes by. "You doin' okay still?"

"Perfect," Sam grits out. Dean's working over his shoulder blades now. "Just keep going. I want it all done today."

Dean nods to himself, taking off his shirt before going back to where he left off. He uses it to dab at the blood on Sam's back, keeping the old scar clear for him to trace and only use the paper on the ground as a reference. "Sorry," he murmurs when Sam hisses as he goes over one of the bones in his back. He tries to do that quickly.

Another hour goes by. "Almost done Sammy. You want a break?"

Sam breathes in relief as he gets a second without pain. "How much more?"

"Just have from under your left shoulder almost to your back bone."

Sam sighs. About a fourth of it left to go. "Just give me a few."

Dean sits next to him, keeping one hand on Sam's shoulder as they rest. He looks over the carnage he's created on his brother's back. "Damn. Why don't you let me use the painkillers?"

"I can get through it without them, Dean. This is nothing compared to other stuff." He sounds tired, almost out of breath.

"You sound beat, man. This is taking a lot out of you. You haven't even made a noise this time." He eyes the sweat running down his brother's neck and back. It's only about sixty degrees out. It's all from the stress of staying still and keeping quiet.

"I can take it more this time. I know the feeling. I can almost ignore it."

"I call bull."

Sam snorts, grimacing just a little with the stinging in his back when his ribs expand. "Okay. Can't ignore it. But it just gets annoying after a while of being a constant."

Dean just shakes his head.

"Finish it," Sam murmurs a few minutes later.

Dean turns to him and starts without question. Better to just get it over with. When he gets to the last bit, he starts to mutter the incantation, saying it as many times as it takes to finish to make sure he gets it all in before he makes the finishing cut. He goes through it two times before he makes the last cut into his brother's back.

Sam makes a pained noise when the sigil is finished, hands gripping the pillow tightly as he rides out the completion of the spell as it makes the whole thing burn for a few seconds. Then he lets out a long breath, a groan sounding the whole way through it. "Ouch."

Dean grips his arm with one hand, dabbing away the rest of the blood with the other. "You alright?" He takes the bandages and disinfectant from his pockets.

"As good as I can be." His voice is hoarse rather than the grit Dean's come to expect. "I hope it stays this time. Going over a scar and all that. It should stay."

"I hope so too, Sammy," Dean answers, starting on the cleaning process.

Sam hisses and grunts as Dean covers his cuts with the disinfectant. He stands up slowly with Dean's help and holds his arms out as Dean wraps up his back. "Leave me room to breathe," he huffs when one time around feels tight around his chest.

Dean chuckles. "Sorry. Just don't want it to slip. Any of this gets infected and we're in trouble. It'll be really hard to clean it up."

"It'll be fine. You've practically drowned me in that disinfectant."

"Damn straight."

When it's finally wrapped up, Sam lets Dean help him into his t-shirt. He hisses little at the movement of his shoulders.

"Let me know if you ever decide to need the pills, alright?"

Sam nods, looking over Dean's shoulder.

Dean turns to see Rick walking over as he picks his knife up from the ground. Mark had Dean meet Rick their second day of living in this camp. He's Mark's right hand man. "Hey, Rick."

Rick nods, motioning to the blade in Dean's hand. "Everything alright?"

Dean chuckles. "Fine. What's up?"

Rick eyes Sam, standing a little stiff and turned away.

Dean recognizes his nervousness and has to keep from smirking. It's big brother pride that fills him when he sees that Sam can make people that nervous just by being in the same vicinity. He could too if he wanted. But one of them has to be a little nice to keep up with what's going on around here. If everyone was too afraid to approach them, they'd miss out on information or reliable contacts.

"Steel said you told Mark you wanted to take a walk around the fence. See the perimeter. He said now would be fine."

Dean nods, looking over his shoulder to Sam.

Rick watches as Dean only gives him a look. Sam seems to understand perfectly, nodding and murmuring something so low, Rick only catches the tone, not the words. The sound makes him shudder. He looks away when Sam's eyes look to him.

"Thanks Rick." Dean wipes his knife off, turning away. "Tell Steel we'll be there in a bit." He pats Sam's chest as he walks up to him before they both head into the cabin.

Rick shakes his head at the two. Colt and Campbell are the two most intriguing people in the world. Colt is so cold, so hostile and Campbell is so much more open it's amazing they stick together. What he just witnessed though, the communication in their eyes and touch, it's obvious they've been around each other a long time. He just doesn't understand. He can't understand what it is about them that just screams 'inseparable' in the midst of their (mostly Colt's) war-weary faces that say 'detached'.

He turns and heads back to the post to tell Steel they're coming, shaking his head. It's not his business anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

Four months, one week ago. The next morning after starting looking for a spell.

"I'm telling you, you won't like it. Might as well not even consider it."

"Just tell me, Sam! Right now, I've got nothing either! I'll take anything!"

Sam pauses, closing the book. He keeps a finger in the pages, looking up at him in part confusion, part annoyance. "_You'll_ take anything?"

Dean throws the book in his hands down on the bed and raises his hands up in exasperation as he stands from where he was sitting next to Sam's feet. "Yes! Is it that horrible that I want you to be able to sleep at night? That I want you to be okay?" He stands next to the window, looking outside at the rising sun. They've been reading all night.

Sam's face falls before it softens into that look he knows he always gets whenever Dean lets him inadvertently know he cares about him. "Dean." He sighs when his brother doesn't turn around. "Dean." He waits until Dean heaves a sigh and turns around. He locks eyes with his brother. "I'm sorry."

Dean shakes his head. "I did say that wrong. Made it sound like it was about me. And it's not. You're the one suffering here. I just don't want you to suffer anymore."

Sam nods. "I should've known that. You never make anything about yourself. I shouldn't have gotten annoyed even if you were."

Dean waves it off.

Sam opens the book in his lap, biting his lip as he thinks for a minute. "You won't like it," he says one more time.

Dean sighs, walking back over to sit by Sam's feet on the bed like he was before. He sets a hand on Sam's leg. "Just tell me."

His brother looks at him, face serious. "It'd have to be done on my skin. Like our tattoos. A sigil. With an incantation with it to make it work."

Dean tilts his head. "We don't have anything for tattoos."

Sam nods, not looking up from the book. "Doesn't have to be in ink. Just on the skin…"

It only takes a second for Dean to understand. He lets out a list of expletives as he stands and turns away again, hand wiping over his mouth.

"I told you, you wouldn't like it."

"Shut up, Sam."

Sam frowns, almost flinching. This is the first time Dean has shown any type of anger at him since before all of this. He huffs, throwing the book to the floor before curling up on his side. "Don't blame me," he mutters. "Only thing I've found."

Dean sighs, hands going to his hips as he turns around, head hanging. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you, Sam. I just… I don't…" He reaches for the single chair they have in their bedroom.

Sam's voice makes him freeze. "Don't pull away."

It's so soft, he barely hears it, but he looks to Sam's prone figure, knowing exactly what he means. His hand drops from the back of the chair. Instead, he goes to sit on the bed beside his brother. "Not pulling away, Sammy," he murmurs. He hesitates just a second before laying his arm on his brothers as if it were an armrest. A second later, he leans over to rest his chin on his arm to look over Sam's shoulder at his face. "Remember when you were… six I think. Right outside Abilene in Texas?"

"Dad was gone for the weekend after a…" Sam leaves it open for Dean to fill in the blank.

"He never told me," Dean muses. "That was before he started telling me about his hunts. Right before, really. But he was after _something_."

Sam chuckles.

"Anyway, you were worried. Because the next school year, I was going to be in the middle school building if it was separated from the grade school building in whatever town we stopped at."

"I didn't want you so far away."

Dean nods. "And I told you that I wouldn't ever be too far away."

"You'd come get me if I needed you."

"Exactly." Dean smiles when Sam turns his head a little to meet his eyes. "I won't pull away, Sam. I know you need me close by. I might have to separate myself from you so I don't get mad at you for no reason, but I'll never be too far away."

Sam nods. "Okay."

Dean grins. "Chick-flick for the day over?"

Sam grins back, eyes suspiciously shiny. "Yeah."

Dean pats his arm, but doesn't move from where he's leaning over his brother. Physical comfort has become a big thing to him, too. He used to not like it, but now… now he knows it's not a sign of weakness if it makes you stronger. And keeping in touch with Sam? Keeps them both stronger.

"I'm hungry."

Dean snorts, looking down at Sam in amusement at the quiet admission. "That's usually my line."

Sam only smiles up at him.

"Anything you hungry for in particular?"

Sam wrinkles his nose.

"Then I'll just go see what we have."

Sam gives him a look.

Dean sighs. "Keep looking. But mark this page. I'll keep it in mind, okay?"

Sam nods.

"Alright. I guess it's breakfast time."

They don't find anything else. Dean eventually gives in after a particularly bad night of nightmares. He hates the entire process. Taking a blade to Sam? Worst. Thing. Ever.

  


Three months, two weeks ago.

  


"Sam?" he gives a sympathetic smile when Sam turns to him. "It's almost time to take another trip for food."

Sam wrinkles his nose.

"Yeah, I know. But we have to. Your freakish eating habits don't help."

Sam sticks his tongue out at him.

Dean rolls his eyes. He's actually glad Sam has taken to eating more. It's helping him recover mass he lost during their first weeks here. And it will ensure muscle mass when they start training again. Which will be soon.

When Sam finally gets up, Dean puts a hand to his shoulder and turns him around. He lifts the back of his shirt, looking over the healing marks on his back. "They feeling alright?"

Sam nods. "Doesn't hurt."

Dean lets out a breath. "That's good." Sam has told him it stopped hurting before, but the redness is finally going away. It looks so much better now. A little less like Dean had just decided to use his brother to practice his torture skills. "You gonna do okay lifting things?"

Sam nods. Now put a little more at ease, Dean pats him on the shoulder before dropping the back of his shirt before they head out to the SUV they use to transport their food. They go down the mountain and start stocking up on food in cans and frozen that aren't past their expiration date. Well... not too far past anyway.

Ever since the first time, Dean stays within hearing distance, though he can now go around the corner without his brother freaking out. He still doesn't go far.

As they're loading the SUV with more water bottles, Sam freezes.

Dean looks to him. "What is it?"

He lifts a finger to his mouth, eyes unblinking as he doesn't move. His whole body is tense. He's shaking.

Dean puts a hand to his shoulder to steady him, knowing the shaking is from nervousness. It's the first time something that could be a threat has gotten close to them since before the city fire. "Easy, Sam," he breathes. He taps three fingers to the inside of Sam's wrist.

Sam finally moves, motioning in answer to Dean's questioning tap. _Person. Around the corner. Headed this way._

Dean leads Sam silently around the SUV to crouch behind it as he hears the footsteps too. He signals Sam. _I'll check it out. Stay._

Sam grabs his wrist.

Dean shakes his head, hand going to fist in Sam's shirt over his chest. _I'll be back._

Sam takes in a sharp breath, his own hand moving up to grip Dean's shirt. _Promise._

Dean flattens his hand on Sam's chest, keeping it there for just a second before pushing him back against the car. _I promise. Now stay._

Puppy eyes turn into a glare.

Dean ignores him, hand going back to pull his gun from the back of his jeans. He slowly stands, going quickly and silently around the car to check things out. If it looks human, there's no guarantee it is. He stay's crouched behind things as he makes it to a building and looks around the corner.

It does look human. More human than a leviathan ever has. He has a bag slung over his shoulder and a gun at his side. Leviathans don't really need guns. It's when the man gets closer that Dean actually recognizes him. He huffs out a breath in surprise, stepping out from behind the building. "Hey, Mark." He has his gun aimed at him. Even though if he were a leviathan, it probably wouldn't help much.

Mark freezes, gun coming up quickly in response to the surprise. He lowers it a little though when he sees who it is. "Dean?"

Dean nods, gun still trained on him. "It's been a while."

Mark relaxes a little, letting lose a small grin. "It has." The grin falls. "Where's…?"

Dean is about to answer when he feels his brother right behind him. He glares over his shoulder. "I thought I told you to stay put."

Sam's eyes move from where they're locked on Mark for only a second. He spares a second of a glare down at him, defiantly pushing his chest more into Dean's shoulder. His steely gazes is on Mark.

"I swear, you're like a cat. I set you down but you keep following me home."

Sam deflates a little, eyes looking to him as he sort of ducks his head and starts to take a step away.

Dean sighs, gripping Sam's arm to keep him where he is. "Relax. I was kidding."

Mark watches the scene with a look uncannily like Bobby's. It's not surprising, seeing as how the man knew Bobby years before the Winchesters were even acquaintances with him. "I see some things never change. Though it all seems to be in a bit more of an extreme."

Dean and Sam both look back to him. Then at each other. Dean does the honors of saying what they're both thinking. "Before we get into any more talk, would you mind showing us you aren't a leviathan?"

Mark chuckles. "No problem." He takes a knife from his pocket, flipping it open before sliding a thin line on his arm. Red blood.

Dean nods. He does the same to himself. "I know Sam isn't." He doesn't want to have to put another mark on his brother's body for a while.

Mark shrugs, finally putting his gun away as he walks closer. "I imagine that's definitely something you would be able to tell."

Dean nods, holding out his hand. "So what brings you all the way out here?" he asks as Mark clasps his palm in a tight grip.

"That's a long story. And I have an idea you guys have one too?"

Dean looks at Sam.

Sam nods.

"We do, and it's a long one. Why don't you come back up to the cabin with us?"

Mark follows and gets into their SUV to ride up to their cabin with them, staying out of the silent Sam's way when they unload. Later, he's sitting on a chair as they lounge on the couch and tell their story. And what a story it is. "So you had to carve it into his back?"

Dean grimaces and nods. "I hated every second of it. But it works." He looks to Sam, giving him a small smile. "Right, Sammy?"

For the first time since Mark walked up to the pair, Sam shows emotion. He cracks a smile in answer to Dean's. It's obvious who Sam really cares about. "You boys haven't changed. Still stubborn and still resourceful." He leans forward, elbows going on his knees. "I know you still have some work to do before you take me up on my offer, but I want to put it out there anyway."

Dean tilts his head. "What offer?"

Mark grins. "We're setting up a camp. A big camp. Where we can train people to help us stop what's going on with the leviathans. The world knows about them now. But they don't know what to do about it. Basically, almost the whole North American continent is moving under their control. Other countries are trying to figure out what will kill them. No luck yet, though that may be because it's hard to get a read on the situation from out of their range of fire."

Dean snorts. "No surprise there."

Mark nods. "So we're going to train people. Send them out to smaller camps across the continent to be ready when the time comes to take care of this. We don't know what we'll be doing yet, but we're training hand to hand combat, weaponry, shooting... Basically anything we think they might need to know to fight these monsters. Think... bootcamp mixed with outpost."

Dean blinks. "That's quite an undertaking."

Mark shrugs. "It's a bunch of hunters that are leading this. Coming out of the shadows after so long is odd, but people do seem to be taking things seriously. Some former military members are with us as well, so it will be professional." He gives Dean a look. "You guys would be a huge help. After all you guys have been through and done, you're exactly who we need for counsel."

Dean nods. "Thanks. But…" he looks to Sam, "we'll have to see how things go out here for a while first. We haven't done any training for a while."

Mark nods in understanding. "I know. You don't need to take me up on my offer right now, but we can set a date to meet? In a few months maybe. And a place. We can have that set and, if you don't meet up with me, I'll be back there on the same day two months after that. If you don't show up then, you're on your own coming to our camp."

Dean looks to Sam.

Sam looks to Dean.

Mark watches the following exchange with almost a sense of awe.

A raised eyebrow from Dean.

A frown from Sam.

Dean rolls his eyes, shaking his head before leaning towards him. "No bringing up past crap. Remember?"

Sam huffs.

Dean puts a hand to his arm.

Sam looks down at his own hands. Then over to Dean, meeting his gaze through the hair hanging over his eyes.

Dean smiles, nodding. "You'll be fine."

Sam bites his lip.

"You will. Promise. Good as new."

Sam rolls his eyes, aiming a smirk at Dean.

Dean sighs. "Fine. Maybe not new, but you'll be good. You'll see." He looks to Mark. "When and where?"

Mark doesn't bring up the seemingly one-sided conversation he just witnessed. But he knows that having two people who can speak almost wordlessly to each other will be a lethal pair in combat. Of course, Winchesters have always been lethal. "Well… how about four months from now?"


	10. Chapter 10

Dean sits across from Mark and the other three group leaders. Going over hotspots marked on the map by blue 'x's.

Sam stands right behind him, watching over his shoulder and mentally going over all of the information he's gathering.

Mark points to an 'x'. "That's where we lost twenty people last time. We went out to get supplies and found out too late that they had moved in and made base there. Totally blindsided us."

Dean nods grimly. "They're sneaky bastards. You attack any of their bases?"

A man next to Mark, who had introduced himself as Drake, nods. "Blew up that one there." He points to a red 'x'.

Dean grins. "Did it work?"

"We don't know the effect fire had on them, but they never rebuilt the base," Crow, one of the other leaders, answers.

Dean wonders if he's called that for his black hair or if there's a personality reason involved with the nickname. He nods thoughtfully. "Do they know you're here?"

Mark shakes his head. "We don't know if it's that they don't know we're here, or they don't really know what we're doing here."

Dean snorts. "They don't know you're an army base, basically."

All of the leaders nod.

"We were planning on taking some people out and repeating that performance in two days," Mark says ruefully.

Dean looks up, a spark of interest in his eyes. "Sounds like fun." He looks over his shoulder. "What do you think?"

Sam chuckles lowly. "Thrilling." He leans over Dean's shoulder, pointing to an 'x'.

Dean nods in agreement. "You guys said that one was a bigger base?"

The fourth leader, Sky, nods. "More operations based there. Saw them ship in a ton of equipment. We're still not sure on their plan yet. We only have theories based on the info we're getting from scouts."

Dean is still trying to figure out if they call him Sky because of the bright blue color of his eyes or if it's his real name. Maybe it's short for Skylar… "You think we should do that one?" he asks, tilting his head back a little towards Sam.

Sam nods, eyes scanning over the map. He draws lines with his fingers.

Dean looks to the map. "It'd be best if we go in decently sized, but also small, groups." He starts translating how Sam drags his fingers as routes across the map. "I don't know how you guys handled the last one, but we should move in from three different directions. In waves. Maybe four. They won't be expecting things to keep coming."

"Draw out," Sam adds.

Dean nods. "It'd be best to draw most of them out."

Sam pauses, a different expression crossing his face before it goes back to its normal stoicism. He clears his throat.

Dean rolls his eyes, recognizing the expression as Sam's annoyance at having to talk. He puts a hand to Sam's arm to keep him from talking. "I already know what you're thinking. You don't need to talk. I still have my voice."

Sam raises an eyebrow at him, a corner of his mouth quirking up in an amused smirk.

Dean smirks back. "Yes, I know exactly what you're thinking."

Sam waves an arm towards the map. _Go ahead then._

Dean chuckles, turning back to the leaders. "Groups of maybe three or four should sneak in and start setting explosives in the major support areas of whatever buildings they're in. They'll be sneaking in at the end of each wave, the next wave distracting the leviathans as they move into the occupied buildings. When we get a report for the clear, we retreat and light the place up." He looks to Sam. "Did I miss anything?"

Sam rolls his eyes, leaning his hip on the back of Dean's chair as he crosses his arms. "Tricks," Sam murmurs.

Dean snaps his fingers. "That's right." He looks over the group. "What do you guys know about taking these things down long enough to get away?"

Crow groans. "Not much. As we said, we didn't stick around to see what the fire did. And we know about the cleaning stuff. But it's hard to find these days."

Dean nods, looking up to Sam. "We have a little teaching to do. Ready for a training session tomorrow?"

Sam nods.

Dean looks back to the group. "Alright. With the risk of sounding full of ourselves…"

Sam snorts.

Dean glares up at him before continuing. "We know a few tricks. Would you want to get anyone who might be going on this together tomorrow so we can show them a few things? What training do you have set up here?"

Sky speaks up. "Target practice. Both with guns and knives. Then there's the usual hand-to-hand training." He shrugs. "Basic stuff."

Dean nods thoughtfully. "You mind if we watch a session?"

"Not at all. We're having one tonight actually. My group."

Dean looks to Sam. "Will you be up for a demonstration?"

Sam knows he's talking about his back. He nods. It's been two days. It's fine.

"You sure?"

He's answered with an exaggerated eye roll.

He chuckles. "Alright." He looks to Sky. "We'll be there."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So what do you think?"

Sam's calculating eyes move over the two sparring in the middle of the field. It's a few seconds before he answers. "They're going too easy on each other."

Dean nods in agreement. "They're more focused on not hurting each other rather than what their next move will be."

Sam nudges him with his shoulder. "We used to do that too," he says with a small smile. It widens when Dean snorts.

"We grew out of it though. Learned that the damage we do to each other would be less than anything else would be if they're really trying to hurt us."

Sam's arm rests against Dean's when he leans a little closer. "We going to demonstrate?"

Dean nods. "If you're up for it. They need it. It'll be like a challenge to them. If we act like we can take more than them, maybe they'll want to go after the prize for 'manliest man'."

Sam chuckles darkly. "Sounds like you."

"Shut up."

Sam smirks. "No." The smirk disappears when Sky starts walking up to them.

"See anything, Campbell?"

Dean nods. "I don't want to step in too much. You're the leader. But I would like to say a few things to them."

Sky nods. "I'm open to suggestions. I don't have to be the only teacher here."

"My dad taught me everything I know. Was a Marine. I'd like to teach them a few of the things that have helped me."

Sky waves his hand towards his men. "Be my guest."

Dean walks up to the group, Sam right behind his shoulder as usual. He chuckles. "You're like my bodyguard, dude."

Sam punches him in the back.

Dean glares over his shoulder. "Bitch."

Sam smirks darkly. _Jerk._

Dean turns back to the men who have grouped together in front of them. They wait to see what the newcomers have to say. A lot of them are skeptical. Some are nervous. Dean sees it all. He has to keep his smile from turning into a smirk. "Gentleman."

Someone snorts.

Dean grins. "I'm Campbell. This is Colt. I've talked to Sky and he said it's okay for us to teach you a few things."

"No disrespect," a man in the front sneers, "but what could you teach us that we haven't already learned? We've been out there. We've fought. We've learned. You just got here." The man's eyes move from Dean to Sam. He stiffens.

Dean looks over his shoulder.

Sam's glare isn't severe. It's the quiet emptiness in his eyes that makes the look so unnerving.

Dean touches his arm. "Easy."

Sam looks to him, almost hopeful.

Dean shakes his head. "No way, man. He wouldn't stand a chance. It's you and me today. You can challenge him later. Okay?"

Sam huffs, relaxing a little. He looks petulant for a second. Almost like a child. Then he levels the glare back on the man.

Dean looks to him. "You thinking you know everything shows how much you still have to learn."

The rest of the men in the group chuckle.

Dean looks them over, appraising. "Everyone has something to learn. I do. You do. No one will ever know everything that could possibly be known about defending their life. It'd be useful. Unfortunately it's an impossibility. Today, Colt and I are going to show you how we train. Because honestly? You guys are doing okay. But it's not very realistic."

"What do you mean?" someone asks.

Dean signals Sam, looking to the man who spoke up as his brother walks away. "Watch us. And then I'll ask you what you've learned."

The man nods.

Dean turns to where Sam has started limbering up. He grins when he notices he's already sweating. "Warming up? You look warm enough already." He moves to take off his shirt, wiping some of his own sweat away before tossing it to the side. The weather has gotten warmer recently. The sun shines brightly, still lowering to the horizon.

Sam smirks darkly at him, spreading his hands as he hunches forward. _Bring it._

Dean grins. "I don't want to hurt you. You sure your back can take it?"

Sam rolls his eyes. He moves his hands to his own shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it at Dean. The thinner layer of bandages is a reminder to Dean that he's healing just fine and can take whatever he dishes out.

The men around them blatantly stare, shocked and wondering what the bandages hide that have to cover almost his whole back. The many scars the brothers have also draw attention, but almost everyone has their own set these days so it's not quite as striking.

Dean grimaces, throwing the sweaty shirt away. "I get the point. Let's get to it then, shall we?" He steps forward.

Sam's world shrinks to just the two of them. Him and Dean. "Waiting on you, old man," he says darkly, voice like a venomous snake. A mix between a seductive purr and a dangerous hiss. It startles some of the men who have never heard him talk.

Sky stands on the sidelines with his men, shifting nervously as he sees 'Colt' shifting into something dangerous. Sure, he's seen the huge guy walking around camp. He's definitely a threat. But now… now he's ready to fight. He looks like he's itching to kill something. It's extremely unnerving.

Dean only grins at Sam's words. "All talk and no bite, dude. You gonna actually do something?" He inches forward as Sam does.

It's completely still for a second. Then they explode.

It's like they move as one, going at each other with mirror movements. Almost as if they read each other's mind. They move across the field at extreme speed, eyes shifting so quickly it doesn't seem like they should be able to gather all of the information from each other. And it's violent. Excessively so.

The men flinch each time one of them gets a hit on the other. If they didn't know any better, they'd say the two were in a fight to the death. Punches are strong, moves are made with intent to harm, and neither give any mercy.

To the brothers, this is just another normal training session. Punches are pulled. Not all the way, but they're softened. Enough to leave bruises, not broken bones. Twists of a wrist or arm are lessened enough to keep from breaking anything but not enough to let them get away. They trust each other. They know each other's limits. They still push the boundaries.

As one, the two separate again, circling each other. Sam spits to the ground, blood from where Dean had nailed him in the mouth with his elbow staining his bottom teeth as he grins.

Dean shakes out his hand from where Sam had gripped it hard enough to grind bones together when keeping him from landing a hit to his neck. "You break my hand, I break your face, understood?"

Sam only grins in delight. He'd gotten Dean. Point for him.

Dean glares. "No point system," he growls as if reading his brother's mind.

Sam only grins, lunging forward again.

Dean blocks the strike, bending Sam's arm back behind him and moving his foot forward with the intent to send him to the ground. If he gets Sam on the ground, there's no longer a height advantage. However, Sam sees it coming and hooks his foot around Dean's, startling him. In that second, he throws his weight into Dean's chest with his shoulder. They both hit the ground, letting out simultaneous 'oofs'.

It turns into a wrestling match until Dean kicks Sam away. Both rolling to their feet, they move towards each other again. When Dean blocks both of Sam's next strikes, they pause a few feet away from each other. Sweat runs down their faces and backs.

Dean runs his arm over his forehead. "That all you got?"

Sam pulls his knife from his side.

Dean blinks.

Everyone around them stops breathing, eyes on either Colt or Campbell. Wondering what Campbell will do and how crazy Colt really is. Then they see the second change. For once, it's easy to see how the two get along so well. Campbell turns into a dangerous creature, just as Colt had done minutes ago.

Dean's face curls into a dark grin, transforming just as Sam did. "It's about time."

The two go at it again, only this time it's even more fierce. Sam snarls as Dean maneuvers himself around to grab Sam around the neck, trying to choke him. Sam eventually gets his head back to collide with Dean's, making his brother release him with a grunt. Then Dean growls. "That's it." He crouches, pulling his own knife from his boot.

Sam's grin turns almost sadistic with childish delight. "Yes."

Dean grins like he just achieved some greatness by making Sam happy. "Come and get me, boy."

Sam does.

For a while, neither of them can get a strike against the other. Then Dean loses his balance as Sam throws his weight into his shoulder. It's a second for Sam's knife to slide right over Dean's side. He grins in triumph as Dean hisses. His second of distraction by his satisfaction gives Dean the opening he needs. He goes for Sam's forearm, still wrapped around him as they're locked together.

Sam growls, letting go and stepping back. Before he gets too far away though, he hooks his foot around Dean's leg, drawing it up to grab the end of his pants in his fist. He yanks up. Dean hits the ground on his back. Sam goes for the killing strike, taking advantage of Dean losing his breath with the impact. His blade stops barely a centimeter away from Dean's jugular.

The men around them, forgotten by the pair, watch in fear as Colt sends Campbell to the ground and swings his knife down. They all intake a sharp breath, Sky being the only one to jerk forward to stop him though he knows it's too late. They all stand frozen though when the blade freezes, watching the two just look at each other. Colt crouched over Campbell, blade still poised, and Campbell looking up at him with a look of surprise.

As they watch, the look changes to the utmost pride, his chest puffing out even as he lays on the ground under the blade. They see his lips move, though they can't hear what he says.

"That's my boy, Sammy," Dean murmurs, eyes filled with pride.

Sam's face lights up, turning into a satisfied and proud grin as he stands. He puts his knife away and offers his hand to Dean, pulling his brother to his feet.

Dean steps forward, throwing his arm around Sam's shoulders as he smiles up at him. "Don't get used to it," he says a little louder. "It's only the first time you've taken me down."

Sam rolls his eyes, shrugging. He can't seem to stop grinning.

Dean turns to the man who had asked him what he meant about not being realistic. "What did you learn?"

The man stares at them in awe. "If we don't practice like we're fighting for our life, we won't know how when it really comes down to it." He breathes it out, like he needs to catch his own breath after the performance.

Dean smirks, approval evident. Then he steps forward, offering his hand. "What's your name, man?"

He takes Dean's hand in a firm grip, shaking once. "Liam."

Dean nods. "Good, strong name for a good, strong man. You have what it takes, Liam. Keep the attitude you have and you'll learn so many things."

Liam nods.

Dean releases his hand, stepping back to touch his shoulder blade to Sam's chest. He looks over the men. "Leviathans won't go easy on you. If you haven't been within thirty feet of one yet, you don't know what it's like. Make sure you're ready to defend your life. Whatever it takes. Because you never know when they'll decide you're who they want for lunch next."

"What do you know about the leviathans?" the skeptic from before asks.

Sam looks to him. Eyes hard. "Wait until you drop a car on one and see it alive again. Or maybe cut off their head and see it reattach."

The men around him shiver at his voice. There's just something about it… Cold. Like the Devil himself is talking to them.

Dean touches his arm, hearing the ice in his brother's voice he mentally calls the "Devil's Echo". A voice that would make him shiver with the memories of the devil inside his brother if he didn't keep them from tainting the view he has on his brother now. "Easy, man. He'll learn eventually."

Sam looks to him.

Dean smiles. "C'mon. I have a feeling I need to check your back. And I'm starving."

Sam relaxes. Because Dean's with him. Who cares what anyone else thinks about them?


	11. Chapter 11

Three months ago.

"See, I told you. You can do it."

Sam shakes his head. "Fluke."

Dean snorts. "Idiot."

Sam shrugs.

"So do it again."

A sigh.

"Do it."

With an annoyed frown, Sam pulls his blade from its sheath, twirling it around through his fingers before turning and swinging his arm forward to throw it all in a split second motion of annoyance. It hits the target dead center. He blinks.

Dean laughs. And laughs. He leans against a tree as he tries to pull himself together.

Sam looks to him, smiling softly. He really missed that sound.

"I think you've found your new talent, Sammy," Dean gets out when he's calmed himself. "You've always been good at throwing knives, but not that good. I'm impressed."

Sam shrugs almost shyly, walking over to pull his knife from the target. "Control," he says simply.

"We should see how far away you can get."

They do. Sam's accuracy stays perfect for a long distance.

Dean grins next to him. "You wanna try some sparring?"

Sam looks to him, biting his lip.

"What?"

He shrugs, looking away as he goes to retrieve his blades.

"No, Sam. Don't do that. Don't shut me out. C'mon. What's up?"

Sam stops after pulling a knife from one of the targets. He looks at it as he twirls it around. Something he's been doing for weeks now, prompting Dean to have him actually use them. "Afraid."

Dean's heart freezes at that word. Sam never admits to fear. "Of what, Sammy?"

Sam looks to him. "Still don't feel in control."

"You just said…"

"Control over the knife. Not necessarily anything else."

Dean's hand closes around his arm. "I'm right here. I won't let anything happen, okay?"

Sam nods, looking down at the knife again. "S'what I'm afraid of.

He shakes his head. "Sam. You need to let me help you with this. I don't understand everything that's going on in your head. Why you hesitate to do things you've always done or why you're more nervous than you've ever been. But I'm here. Right here. And I'm not going anywhere so it'll be easier on both of us if you let me in."

Sam taps the flat side of the blade against the palm of his hand as he thinks. Then he looks up to Dean. "Start slow."

Dean nods. "Anything you want. But we need to keep moving forward."

Sam puts his blade away, nodding.

Dean steps forward, putting his hands on Sam's shoulders. He looks into his brother's eyes. "Anything that's going on in your head, push it away. Right now."

Sam makes a face.

Dean sighs. "Close your eyes. Sam… Okay. Now breathe. Just breathe."

He does. He breathes. In, out. In, out.

"What do you hear? Tell me."

"Dean…"

"Humor me. What do you hear?"

A sigh. "Birds. Leaves."

"What else?"

"Your voice."

"Now, what do you feel?"

"The wind. Your hands on my shoulders."

"Open your eyes."

Sam does, looking down the small gap to Dean.

"Now what do you see?"

Sam's breath catches. He gets it. "You."

"What else?"

"Just you."

Dean smiles, then puts his hand over Sam's heart. "I'm right here, Sam. Hear me, feel me, see me, or not."

Sam nods.

"I know your uncertainty about what's real and what's not really gets you. Even if you aren't seeing the devil anymore. You aren't lying about that, right?"

Sam shakes his head.

"We're going to get through this whole leviathan problem. Together. You and me. Nothing else matters. Clear your head of everything else right now. It's just you and me. Okay?"

Sam nods, closing his eyes to breath a few times before opening them and looking down at Dean. "You and me."

Dean pats Sam's chest where his hand is still resting over his heart. "Let it all go and you'll feel better. You will." Then, just to cement his words, he pulls Sam into his arms.

Sam doesn't even question him. Just closes his arms tightly around his brother, burying his face in his neck like he used to when he was a kid and his brother was the strongest person in the world. "I'll try," he mumbles.

"That's all I'm asking."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam's better. Much better. Totally worth the chick-flick moment the other day. He's not as jumpy. A little more confident. Less dependent on Dean, though he still likes to keep him near. Dean notices it's more when they're away from the cabin though. He contemplates this. Eventually he decides it's time to get Sam out more. Give him back the skill of conforming to a different environment. But he also thinks it might help him relax a little.

So that's what he does. Packs up the impala and almost physically pushes Sam out the door. "We're going camping."

"We're in a cabin."

"We're going camping like we used to."

"The car's too small."

"You say that every time. Besides, it's nice enough that we can lay on the ground tonight."

Sam wrinkles his nose as he gets into the impala.

"Stop complaining. It's a part of our training."

"Dean."

"No."

Sam grunts.

"Exactly. Now shut up and let me drive."

He doesn't go far. Just about two hours down the mountain before turning into a clearing he finally sees off the side of the road through some trees. He parks the impala where it won't be seen from the road in case (by some impossible chance) someone comes by. Then he gets out.

Sam sighs as he stands. "We have a back yard."

Dean glares.

Sam shrugs. _Just saying._

Dean ignores him, pulling stuff together for a fire.

For a while, Dean watches Sam's eyes shift everywhere. His body is tense. His hands seem to move a lot without actually doing anything. Eventually though, he calms down enough to sit next to Dean with his back at the impala and the fire in front of them.

"Marshmallow?"

Sam laughs, reaching into the bag his brother seemed to magically produce and looks around for a stick.

Dean holds one out to him. He grins in triumph when Sam laughs again. "I'm always prepared, Sammy boy."

Sam rolls his eyes, watching as his marshmallow slowly browns. He looks to Dean's, scrunching up his nose when he sees it catch on fire. It scrunches more when Dean waits to blow it out until it's burnt all over.

Dean doesn't even look over. "Eat your food the way you like. Leave mine alone." He pulls it off the stick, popping it into his mouth. "Ow. Hoh. Wery hoh."

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother's garbled words. "Serves you right for burning it to death." He pulls his perfectly browned marshmallow off his stick, looking to Dean smugly.

His brother glares, finally swallowing. "Shut up."

"You're just jealous your marshmallow sucked."

Dean punches him in the arm, staring in wonder at his brother as he puts a new marshmallow on his stick. He can't tear his eyes from the genuine smile on his brother's face. Dimples and everything. Finally. His brother is relaxing for the first time in months. He looks away quickly when Sam starts to look back. He busies himself with getting another marshmallow of his own.

It's quiet for a while. Leaning against the car as they watch the fire burn until it's low enough to see the stars clearly. It's when Dean is throwing another load of branches onto the fire that Sam speaks again.

"Thanks."

Dean looks to him. "For what?"

Sam shrugs. "Getting us out here. It's almost like…"

"The crap from the past few hears hasn't happened?"

Sam nods. "Yeah."

Dean notices suddenly that Sam has been talking more out here. But his voice is still that of the war-weary. Sad, angry, hurt, and so much more wrapped into the rough timber and lowness his voice has come to be. But tonight, there's a slight lightness to it. Less of the detached sound it's had.

Dean gives him a soft, half-smile. "You're welcome."

Sam smiles back.

They've made a step towards his healing tonight. Dean's a little proud of the part he played in that. 

  


Two and a half months ago.

  


"Sam. Hey!" Dean panics over his unresponsive brother, having run into a werewolf when getting supplies. They went to the town a few hours down the mountain, one the leviathans had went through and left it empty of life but teeming with abandoned supplies, and ran into the creature as it scrounged through the city.

They didn't see it until it was too late. It leapt on Sam, sending him to the ground before he could even reach for his knife. It was after Dean shot it that he saw the red on his brother's arm. Then the panic set in.

"Sam! C'mon man! I need you to let me know you're still in there."

Sam only leans against the SUV where Dean set him up, eyes seemingly blank. Empty. 

Dean's about to lose his mind. "Sammy!" He's stitching up the wound now, already almost done. It was deep enough to need stitches, though not long or very wide. But there's a cold pit in his stomach. He doesn't know whether it was a bite or a scratch. "C'mon, Sam." He also doesn't know how to reach his brother. Has no idea what happened.

After wrapping Sam's arm and still not getting an answer, he does the only thing he can think of. He takes Sam's face in his hands, touching their foreheads together as he pleads for him to start responding again. "Sammy, if you're in there, I need you to hear me. I'm right here. Okay?" He threads his fingers through Sam's hair like he used to do when they were kids. "Feel me. I'm right here." He tilts Sam's face up to look at him. "Look at me, Sam. I'm right here."

He repeats that for a while. Going between soothing his brother and trying to get him to respond. Always ending with 'I'm right here'. Eventually, when he looks into his brother's eyes, there's life in them. "Sammy?"

Sam blinks. Then lets out a breath, as if he had been holding it. "Dean."

"Right here, man."

Sam's eyes meet his. There's fear in them. "What happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. You blanked out there."

Sam looks down at his arm. He seems to stop breathing. "Was it a bite?"

"Damn."

Sam looks up, eyes wide.

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Sam seems to slump back against the car again. He looks down at his wrapped arm. "You might have to-"

"No."

"Dean…"

"I said no. It has to be a scratch. Now come on. Let's get home."

Sam doesn't argue. Too worried to. The drive back to the cabin is tense and silent. He feels his brother's eyes on him. "I'll let you know if I feel anything," he mutters.

Dean's hands tighten on the wheel. "I wasn't… I'm just worried about you."

Neither of them talk again until they're back at the cabin. When they get there a few hours later, Dean pulls Sam by a fist in his shirt into the house and pushes him onto the couch. "Now you are going to sit here and rest. I'll get you food."

Sam grabs his arm as he starts moving away. "Dean."

Dean tries to pull away.

Sam reaches around and grabs the gun from his brothers back, flipping it in his hands before holding the handle out to him. "At least have it ready."

Dean looks at him for a second, mouth partly open and eyes wide in shock. Then he snaps out of it. "No." He takes the gun, taking the magazine of silver bullets out and throwing it into a corner of the room.

Sam huffs, running a hand through his hair. "Dean you need to be ready to do what needs to be done."

Dean shakes his head. "I won't kill you. I'll chain you up or something."

"S'not going to work," Sam sighs.

"We don't even know if anything happened. And I'm pretty sure it didn't." When Sam doesn't look up from where he's staring into his lap, he sighs and sits on the couch next to him. "You're fine Sam. You'll see." He throws his arm around Sam's shoulders, pulling him against his side and gently nudges his little brother's head down to rest on his shoulder.

Sam concedes, letting out a sigh. "Idiot."

Dean chuckles. "I'm right here. We'll wait out the night together. Alright?"

Sam nods. Doesn't bother trying to persuade his brother to do anything. It isn't going to work anyway.

They sit through the night. Watch the moon rise and the white light through the window move across the floor. Eventually, Dean moves them so they're laying side by side on the couch, his arm still curled around Sam's shoulders so his brother has to lay his head on his chest. Not unlike how they used to lay when they were little. And how they've started waking up like in the mornings from Sam's 'cuddle instinct' since they started sharing a bed again.

Eventually, Sam falls asleep. In the morning, he blinks his eyes open to the sun coming through the window. He lifts his head, looking down at his brother as he sleeps peacefully next to him. It's with a look of wonder spreading across his face that he finally gets it. Dean really is right here. And he isn't going anywhere. He's trying his best to keep Sam together. And he really wants to be here. Otherwise, he wouldn't try so hard to reach out.

He lays his head back on Dean's chest, closing his eyes and smiling a little at the sound of his brother's heartbeat. He falls back to sleep. Neither of them wake up for a while.


	12. Chapter 12

Present

"You aren't going without me!"

"Well I'm not going _with_ you! So either you stay here or you leave them a leader short! Do you want to be responsible for the death toll?"

Sam grits his teeth. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not! An infection a year ago was bad. Now? It could mean death! So you stay here and take the little medicine we have!"

"It's not that bad," Sam spits.

"You can't see it. I can. And you aren't going out with us today." Dean crosses his arms, feet firmly planted shoulder width apart. His 'I'm not budging on this' stance.

"I've fought with worse," Sam growls.

"Well not anymore," Dean says lowly. "That show we put on for everyone should have waited a few more days. But we didn't. So now we have to put up with the consequences. You ripping open some of the cuts on your back. So you have to stay here."

Sam reverts to the puppy eyes. "Dean…"

Dean shakes his head. "No. You're staying. That's final." He walks forward and hugs Sam before he can say anything else. "Stay out of trouble. I'll be back."

"But…"

"No, Sam." He lets his brother go, backing towards the door to their cabin. "I'll be back. I promise."

"But…" Sam lets out a distressed sound as his brother closes the door behind him. "I have a bad feeling," he finishes to the empty room.

Their target is the building Sam had pointed out the other day. Dean and the other leaders had conferred over the plan. Each of them had their own groups, making a total of five. Five different waves to hit the building with. The last time they blew up a building, it wasn't this complicated. This building, however, is bigger and has more leviathans in it than most of the surrounding posts.

Mark leads the first group in to start the distraction. Drake and Sky lead the second groups in. Drake's acts like a second wave while Sky leads his small group into the building and sets the detonators while the leviathans are distracted. Then Crow's group swoops in, pun absolutely intended, to be another wave to distract the leviathans from noticing Sky's group moving back out. That's where Dean's group comes in. They join in at the end to cover everyone as they retreat before the building is set to blow.

Step one works. Marks group going at the leviathans at the outside of the building draws more out. When they seem to have drawn most of them out, Drake's group shows. Sky's group isn't even seen by others on their own side as they sneak into the building. Everything goes perfect. Sky gives the all clear over the radio when his people are ready to retreat, Crow's group moving in to make another distraction.

In the meantime, Dean's group had a small problem with a few stray leviathans, probably making a perimeter round or going to get supplies. The scuffle they get into is over quickly and quietly, heads either blown to pieces or severed and kept apart as taught by Sam and Dean the other day. Dean loses one of his guns at some point when thrown through the air by one of the leviathans before he puts it down. He huffs in frustration when he can't find it. It's his favorite one. He blows off the head of the leviathan who made him drop it. Someone else makes the killing chop.

He doesn't have time to look for it. They have a schedule to keep. They need to be in position when Mark radios in. So when the few leviathans are taken care of, he leads his group on, mentally cursing the loss of his favorite gun. He hopes he has a chance to get it back later. He gets his men to their point right on time.

_"Dean, we're ready to make our retreat,"_ Mark radios. Dean turns to the front men of his group, nodding. They move, the others following. They start firing on any leviathan in range. The ground is covered in black goo and bodies lying in pieces or trying to glue themselves back together. By now, the leviathans have gathered their own guns to fire back, having finally started accepting the fact that long-range weapons are useful when fighting the humans. It's an unfortunate thing to have learned.

Dean and his team make their way all the way to the front of their line, firing as the people who've run out of ammo turn and sprint to safety. One by one, person after person makes it to safety behind rubble or buildings far off the battle field. Dean and a few others are all that are left at the front. "Light it up," Dean radios to Sky.

A second later, the building blows. The rest of Dean's team turns and sprints away from the fire and falling debris. Dean just calmly turns to walk away, unconcerned. He and Sam have done this enough to be used to it by now. However, the sudden searing pain in his side is a surprise. It punches a cry out of him as he falls to his knees and wraps an arm around the gash now in his side.

"Dean."

Dean's breath freezes in his lungs when he recognizes the voice.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  


It's a shock to everyone when Dean is sliced by a piece of debris and falls to the ground. Now too far away to even do anything, they can only stare in shock at the leviathan that walks forward. The one who had thrown the debris at Dean. He stops inches away as Dean turns to fall to a sit, looking down at him in a crisp business suite with his hands in his pockets. As if he were ready to make a business deal. There's no question who this is. Dick Roman.

No one dares to even breathe as the leviathan stands over Dean. He smiles down at him and they see his lips move though they can't hear what he says. Dean stiffens before answering. It's obvious it was nothing good. Mark scrambles to find him a way out of this.

"Are you all cowards?" he hisses after trying to get a group formed that would be willing to go against Roman.

"Mark. That's Dick Roman. The head honcho. You know this. Not even our little tricks take him down." Liam looks at 'Campbell' with distress. "I'm sorry Mark. I liked him too."

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  


"It's been a while, Dean. Not since I saw you drag your brother out of the burning city. I was sure he was a goner after that hit to the head." He chuckles to himself as if he just told a good joke.

Dean stiffens. "Go to hell."

"Now, now. No need to get nasty." He looks towards where he knows the others are taking cover. "Where is he now, Dean? Did he not make it after all? It doesn't look like many people care for you outside of him, does it? No one's coming to save you."

"They aren't suicidal," Dean growls. His arm is tight around his middle. His vision is getting a little blurry. That's not good. "Sam's safe," he says, giving himself some relief in the situation he's stuck in right now.

"Hmmm." Dick crouches next to him. "But you aren't. It's a pity this was so anticlimactic. I was expecting a big showdown with you." He smiles, reaching for Dean's neck.

"Dick!"

Every head on the battle field turns to the furious voice. It takes a few of them a second to locate it. Eventually, all eyes are locked on Sam where he stands only twenty feet away from the pair out in the open. No one even saw him walking in. He's got a gun in his hand, hanging at his side for now. But there's something different that everyone notices. He looks menacing. Huge. The man that's been walking around them at camp is nowhere to be seen in this one. Even if he had seemed dangerous before. Instead of his calm and ordinary stance, his back is straight, though curved to the side just a bit in a confidant lean. His shoulders are pulled back and seem impossibly wide. With the addition of a tilt to his head and a sneer on his face, everyone watching suddenly feels like they're looking at a different person.

His eyes are dark and aimed at the threat to Dean. "Step away from my brother." His voice sounds like venom with its roughness mixed with his anger. The first time it's been used like this since before he stopped talking much.

The way he says it too, with so much hate towards Dick tangled together with so much affection and conviction for Dean, tells most of the former hunters in the area around them who these two really are with the word 'brother' tacked on. For the others, it clicks as soon as 'Campbell' speaks up.

"Damnit, Sam."

Sam spares a smirk down at Dean.

Dean blinks in surprise, then smirks back. Sam is back. This is the Sam that's been gone for the past half year. Of course, he shouldn't be surprised. Sam always pulls through when he's needed the most.

Sam is looking back at Dick now. "Back off. Now!"

He stands slowly. "Sam. Nice to see you still functioning."

Sam sneers. "Go to hell."

Dick almost smiles in amusement. "Just like your brother. So offensive."

Dean snorts, groaning when a spark of pain flares up afterwards. He makes a sign with his hand for Sam to hurry up.

"Back away from Dean before I shoot and keep shooting until you're in so many pieces it'll take you months to glue yourself back together."

For a second, Roman doesn't move. Only contemplates for a minute.

"If it doesn't kill you, it'll still hurt like hell." Sam raises the gun in his hand, pulling another from the back of his pants to level at him too. If Dean were looking, he'd recognize it as his own he lost back on the field earlier. He's too busy keeping himself alive, leaning down to lay on his side. Sam can't risk a glance, already trying so hard to look formidable in front of the leviathan. He barely hides his worry.

It seems like an eternity before Dick starts backing away. "Well played Sam. I'm looking forward to seeing you again."

"You shouldn't," he replies darkly as he takes a step forward every time Dick takes one back. "Next time I'll have a way to kill you."

The last sentence is dark enough for Dick to feel a spark of nerves before he shakes it off. "We'll see." He turns around and walks away.

Sam crouches next to Dean, dropping his guns to turn his brother onto his back from where he had let himself fall to his side. "Dean. Dean."

"Ow. Easy, Sam. Easy." He opens his eyes to see Sam's face drawn and pale. Then he notices the shaking. "Hey. It's alright Sammy. You did good. You did good, man. Not many have been able to make him nervous just from a threat of words." He pushes himself up, groaning lowly.

"Take it easy, Dean. God, I was so… When I found your gun I thought…"

"I'm fine, Sam. I'll be fine. C'mon. Help me up so we can get back to camp."

"Like hell." Sam reaches under Dean's shoulders and knees to lift him into his arms with a little struggle.

"Sam!"

"Shut up." His voice leaves no room for argument. Then he notices the line of men coming towards them. He tenses.

"Sam…" Dean moves to try to get down, but winces and stays still instead.

"Why didn't any of you try to help him?" Sam spits.

Mark answers, trying to calm him before he gets more worked up. His shoulders are still shaking and his white knuckled grip on Dean can be seen clenched around his brother's jeans and jacket. "We didn't know what to do," he says nervously. "We doubt he would have even given us a chance to talk like he did for you."

Sam doesn't stop shaking. Dean fears a meltdown. "Sam. C'mon. Les'go." His words start slurring.

Sam looks down in worry before he starts walking. "Where's the kit?"

"I have it," Drew replies as he jogs up. "Let's get him into the jeep."

Sam nods, walking quickly after Drew. "Just give me everything. I'll take care of it."

Drew doesn't argue.

After Sam gets Dean into the back seat of the jeep, he immediately goes to work. Shirt is pulled carefully over his brother's head after the jacket and de-arming him. It's with practiced precision that he threads the needle and goes to work on the huge, six-inch gash in his brother's side. Dean is conscious but has his eyes closed. He doesn't make a sound the whole time.

The drive is tense and silent. Drew driving, Mark in the passenger seat, and Sam and Dean in the back. They're back at camp in a little over an hour. Sam gets out and reaches back in an attempt to pick Dean up again but gets batted away. Sam frowns but relents. He's still trembling a little, but has mostly calmed down.

"Damnit, Sam! I can walk!" He struggles to reclaim the dignity that was taken when Sam picked him up in the middle of the damn battlefield. Dean sways when he gets on his feet. He nods his thanks when Sam steadies him with a hand on his arm.

"Sorry."

And it's that voice. The quiet, shaky, child-like voice. It reminds Dean that Sam still isn't totally back to his full self. He winces to himself when he realizes how harsh he's being. He pats Sam's arm, keeping a hand on it as he starts walking them towards their cabin. "C'mon Sammy. I think we're done for the day, don't you?"

Sam nods, still standing tall but not looking around at anyone on their way. A mix between the Sam they saw on the field and the Sam they've seen since the brothers got here. It gives them all pause to take it in. Some watch in curiosity as the brothers walk off. Others watch in awe. They can see the way Dean keeps Sam together. Calm. And they can see how Sam is keeping Dean from swaying more than he already is. Keeping him strong.

Mark clears his throat, getting most everyone's attention. "C'mon everyone. We have other things to attend to."

"That's Sam and Dean Winchester," someone speaks up.

Mark nods. "And they're recovering from a lifetime of crap right now so they'd appreciate it if you didn't treat them any differently than you have since they got here. Let them keep to themselves. Let them do as they please. Those two are always one step ahead of me anyway." He chuckles to himself. "And please. Don't try to understand any of it." He turns and walks away, letting whatever talk arises just be spoken. They'll never get it right anyway.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  


Once the door to the cabin is closed behind them, Sam does what he always does when he feels secure. He lets go. Unfortunately for Dean, it's letting go of his hold on his fear. Which sends him pulling his brother tightly to him in an attempt to keep himself from falling apart.

Dean grunts at the pain in his side, but doesn't try to move away. He even lets his arms go around him too. "Sam. I'm alright. Everything's fine."

"I found your gun. And I thought… thought I was alone. I can't do this alone. Can't hold myself together. Don't wanna be alone."

Dean closes his eyes, sighing before extracting himself from his brother's arms. "Sam." He looks up. "I'm not going to leave you alone. Okay? Besides, you aren't alone. You have an entire group of people here."

Sam looks him seriously in the eyes with that look that says 'I'm going to say something completely chick-flicky, but you still need to listen'. "I can't hold myself together," he says quietly. "You help keep the nightmares away. You keep me sane when I feel like everything is crushing me under its weight. I wouldn't be able to survive long without you. So yeah. I'd be alone. 'Dead' wouldn't be far behind."

All of Dean's breath leaves in a sigh, his eyes closing. He reaches out and takes Sam's hand, lifting it up to push it against his chest, right over his heart. "You feel this?" He waits for Sam to nod. "The day this stops beating is the day this does." He takes his own hand from where it was still on Sam's and pushes it against Sam's chest right over his heart. "Okay? The day mine stops beating is the day yours does first. You understand me?"

Sam nods.

Dean nods too. The hand on Sam's chest changes to fist a handful of his shirt. "I won't leave you here alone."

Sam's hand fists too, anchoring him with Dean's shirt. "Please." The word grates out.

"I won't."

A nod.

"Can we sleep now? I'm in pain."

Sam nods, slowly releasing the hold he has on Dean's shirt, patting him once on the chest before walking over to the bed. "There's going to be talk," he says quietly.

Dean chuckles, carefully because of his side. "No doubt about that." He kicks off his boots before laying down, waiting until Sam is under too before pulling up the covers.

"Slipped. Called me Sam."

"We were in a situation. I could hardly care at the moment."

Sam chuckles. "Still your fault."

Dean kicks him. "Shut up."

Sam kicks back.

"Ow!"

"You started it."

"Well I'm ending it." He kicks again.

Sam looks over at him, leveling a glare. He kicks back. "Stop it."

"You stop it!" Dean kicks again.

Sam lets out a long-suffering sigh, eye roll to the ceiling and everything, before looking back at Dean. "Go to sleep."

Dean grins. "I win."

Sam rolls onto his side, putting his back to Dean. "Such a child."

"Says the one who said 'you started it'." Dean imitates Sam's voice.

Sam huffs. "Sleep."

"Whatever loser."

"You're the loser's brother."

Dean doesn't answer at first. Instead, he turns on his side too, giving Sam a light tap on the back with his fist. "Damn straight."

Sam smiles to himself.


End file.
